#Ed was old at this point as they all are and he was losing his memory and going senile

[neonjazzparty]

I had a dream that the Riddler died and at his funeral all the rogues gallery was there. But of course the Joker kept sending his goons to put "More masks!" (Joker party favors) As offerings to show his "friendship" aka Up Do Everyone Else putting stuff on Ed's casket. Anyways there's a knock on the door and everyone is thinking maybe Batman has finally shown up. Since it's his fault that he died anyways. Nope. In walks Ed, tired and covered in dirt. He's not pleased to see this mockery of a funeral for him. Shocked, the rouges watch in awe as Joker whispers to grieving Selina "I knew he wasn't dead."

[soo0hee]

In the Middle of the Night...

Pairing — Yoon Jeonghan x afab!Reader

Summary — One year after the snap your life finally is going back to normal again and with insomnia and nightmares plagueing your sleep, you do things you usually wouldn't. Thankfully a little spider is ready to swoop in...

Genre — angst, a hint of fluff, SpidermanAu

Warnings — Depression, mentions of ED, mentions of suicide, alcoholism, guns, mentions of kidnapping, sexuall assault, panic attacks, tell me if i missed sumn

Word Count — 2.8k

Rating — NSFW

A/N — Spidey!Hannie is here my babes, wifes and loves! @tusswrites @tomodachiii @svtiddiess @welcometomyoasis @diamonddaze01

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

You knew that it wasn't a good idea to leave your apartment at ass o'clock in the morning, if it could even be called that already. Most citizens of Seoul were dead asleep at this hour.

Most, but not you. Not when the nightmares of losing your loved ones were still plaguing you to this day. Making it impossible to sleep even now, 5 years later and with everyone who had vanished with the snap coming back again.

5 years of surviving as what you had done could not be called living.

You remembered the screams on the street of people vanishing into dust or of those who had to watch those they loved disappear. You could still feel how the hand you were holding was suddenly gone and you turned around just to witness the horrified look of your baby sister as she to turned to dust.

You felt your throat hurting as you screamed terrified just like half of the earths population and only when things had settled a bit where you able to drag yourself home feeling numb and like you had no joy left in your body just to find everyone gone.

Only your mother was left behind, sobbing in the ruins that had once been the living room of your familys home. They were all gone. Your father, brother, sister and even your beloved cat. It was only you and your mother left. Until the day you came home from your job only weeks later to find that she had left you too.

The blood on the kitchen floor had already started do dry as it seemed to cover every single tile it could reach. The missing knife on the counters cooking block and the metallic smell hanging in the air had burned itself into your memory.

Alone, mourning the disappearance of your family and your missing best friend Jeonghan you fell into a hole that swallowed you and held onto your being with sharp claws.

5 years of missing different puzzle pieces of yourself that left you wondering if you would ever be okay again.

Inclined to ignore the knock on your new apartments door you stayed on the couch with your cloths looking like they had been worn for weeks, which at that point was probably true and you desperately needing a shower and proper meal. But the knocking had been insistent and annoyed you threw your blanket to the floor, almost tripping over multiple take out boxes as you marched over to the door. The peephole was covered from the outside so you were unable to see who it was.

Growling out a curse that got stuck in your throat as soon as you saw who had been covering the peephole with his finger.

Jeonghan, still slightly out of it after having been brought back and having been explained what had happened had immediately went to your old home just to find a creepy stranger who looked like he had been nursing on one whiskey bottle after the other. Determined to find you again to see if you were okay, it had taken him a few days do find you and when he finally did, all he could think about was you. From his friends he already knew that you hadn't vanished after the snap just like they had warned him about the state he might find you in, yet when the door opened Jeonghan felt like he had been punched in the guts.

His best friend, the person he'd do anything for, looked like an empty shell of e person she used to be. It was obvious that the last years have not been kind to you and it took everything in him not do cry for the happy girl you used to be. The light in your eyes was gone, your hair a giant mess and even underneath the hoodie you were wearing, a hoodie he was 100% sure had once been his, he could see that you had drastically lost weight.

Jeonghan had barely caught the door as you slammed it shut or at least tried to before running to hide in the bathroom. He listened to the hysteric crying for maximum 2 seconds before breaking down the door after having heard the shattering of a mirror, scooping you into his arms as you begged for the hallucinations to finally stop torturing your mind.

He didn't mind the blood spilling from your bare knees as you sat in between the mirror shards littering the ground as he fought against you while you fought against him and the demons you were seeing in your terror and only when he forced your face to look at him did you finally give in, finally believing him when he promised that it really was him and not your mind playing tricks on you.

God, just how many times had you seen him when in reality he had still been gone?

Until you had calmed down, hours had gone by when you had passed out from exhaustion right into his arms and for you to get better it had taken much longer.

That was 1 year ago and so far, things were going ok. Telling your family about the tragedy that happened while they were gone had put a strain on all of them and while everyone was trying to live with this new reality, distance had grown larger then you thought possible. But they were back, and that was enough for you.

Now though, you were suffering another night of insomnia so you had grabbed your phone and started your journey to Jeonghans place.

Seoul at 3 am was not your favorite place and walking past dark alleyways gave you slight serial killer movie vibes. Tightening your hold on your phone you dialed Jeonghans number, hoping you wouldn't wake him up.

"Hello there, sunshine! Why are you awake?" your friends far to awake voice rang through the speaker.

"You know, I could ask you the same thing." You countered and earned a huff from the other.

"Yahh, at least I'm in bed unlike a certain someone, right?" he answered just as the honking of a car was much closer on his side of the line then it could be if he was in bed.

"Didn't know that your bed is out on the streets now..." you called him bluff. "I'll be at your place in 15, you know."

There was a moment of silence on his side.

"Wait, you're outside? y/n! It's 3 am! That's so dangerous!" Jeonghan whisper yelled and you faltered a little in your steps, unsure if you should continue your way.

“Sorry... I just couldn't sleep again and-"

You looked around yourself, suddenly feeling like you were being watched.

"Please, go home. Try for me! I'll be over in a bit but please go home!" His voice was urgent in a way you had never heard before. It made you nervous.

"I'm already at the sandwich place not that far and-" You were silenced when you rounded the corner, starring right into the barrel of a gun. The men in front of you, 3 in total were covered in black, guns ready to be used in their hands.

"Gimme the phone darling!" the one pointing his weapon at your face snapped. Fear took a hold of you and with shaking hands you did as told. Jeonghans paniked voice rang through the speaker, having heard what has been said on the other side.

"Not your night it seems like." One of the others cackled at your misery.

The third one grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you along into one of the alleyways while completely ignoring your struggles against his hold.

"No, please let me go! I didn't see anything and I-" you begged, voice wavering as you were pushed against a wall.

"Pull of your shirt."

No. No, this wasn't happening. Or was it?

Apparently you were taking to long.

"I said, take. It. Off!"

You whimpered and reached for the zipper of your jacket. The cold air making you shiver when you exposed yourself to the night and reached for the hem of your shirt. "Please don't do this. Let me go home and you can leave too and-" Pain shot through you as you got struck across the face by the gun.

"Shut up and lose the shirt, bitch."

“Now I do have to ask, is that a way to talk to a lady? Did your mother not teach you any respect!”

3 heads + yours flew around only to find…

Nothing.

“Up here, pabo-ya.”

The heads flew up and came face to face with Seouls very own friendly neighbor hood spider.

He was hanging of the side of the building, head tilted to the side and web attached to the building.

“Fuck off Spiderboy. This is our business and not your’s.” the one with the gun growled annoyed and you could hear the sound of dissatisfaction when the hero jumped down to land on the ground.

“We agree to disagree; is that the way to talk to a lady? Seriously guys, you are not exactly being gentlemen here.” The red masked guy taunted happily as he took two steps closer, causing the other 3 to build a barrier between you and him.

You frantically looked to the side, hoping to find something you could use to defend yourself while Spiderman distracted them enough for you to reach for the pipe laying not to far away. You probably would even have noticed if they weren’t busy trying to scare the uninvited guest off.

The 3 gangsters were pissed, you could hear that even with having heard only half of what was being said and just when the first gun shot rang through the alley, you reached for the pipe you had eyed before.

The sound the metal made when it collided with the mans head that was closest to you would have on a normal day made you sick, but not now you only heaved as you watched him sink to the ground.

Spiderman, having taken down the gunner and now busy fending of the last one webbed his hands together, earning him a loud roar of anger which you silenced with another swing of your own weapon of choice.

You came face to face with the friendly neighborhood spider and for a moment you just stood there in silence until you could hear the sound of sirens in the distance.

The groans of the 3 taken down idiots filled the night and spiderman made quick business webbing everyone to the ground before shooting one up in the air to get ready to swing off; the other holding out to you for you to take.

“Unless you want to stay here to make a police report that the police of Seoul is to stupid to follow through with anyway, I can swing us out of here?”

Hesitant but cold you took it and suddenly he had is arm wrapped around your waist and held onto him for dear life while swinging through the night.

The wind tugged at your hair and clothes and you prayed to everyone who would listen that Spiderman wouldn’t drop you. You weren’t particularly keen on ending as human pancake on the asphalt.

Your feet hit the ground or more like a roof top. The rooftop of your best friends apartment building to be exact. Having spend countless of nights up here with him to chase the nightmares away just trying to feel his presence in the last 5 years right on this roof, you knew exactly where you were.

The question was just- no… this had to be a coincidence, for sure…

“You really shouldn’t be out this late, it’s not safe for a lady like you.” Spiderman said and now that you had calmed a little after your adrenalin rush, something about the chiding tilt of his voice rang a bell in the back of your head.

“Yeah, my friend told me as much… I was on my way to his place when i– you know.”

The hero nodded knowingly. “Yeah about that…” he stated calmly before suddenly ripping the mask of his head and your best friend long black hair fall in front of his face. “What the hell, sunshine?!”

What. The. Fuck????

Mouth basically on the floor you stared in Jeonghans horrified face. It was funny. Shouldn’t you be the one to feel like that upon finding out that your best friend was fucking Spiderman???

“What are you doing outside this late? Were you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how scared I was when you called?”

But it made sense. His late nights. The fact that he brought you here. His voice.

“You belong in bed! Not out on the streets at 3 fucking am!”

Jeonghan paced in front of you, hand furiously buried in his hair and tugging on it while you still stood frozen on the roof.

“God I think my heart stopped for a moment because of it! You’re going to be the reason I go bald early and I hope you know that I will make you pay for every single hair dye job I get because of it!”

Your mind slowly caught up with the situation even if it gave you a headache. You rubbed your temple with the tips of your fingers hoping to make the incoming pain go away before it really started while Jeonghan kept ranting to himself without looking at you.

“Jeonghan.”

“And not even that but what if I hadn’t come in time? Huh, what then?”

You tried again.

“Jeonghan!”

Failing.

“You could have been kidnapped, thrown in a ditch or what not!”

You inhaled deeply.

“Or, or you could–“

“JEONGHAN!”

“WHAT?”

He whirled around to finally face you. Realizing the situation you were in his stressed look changed into something akin to surprise.

“You–“ you stopped talking to gather your thoughts. “Are so lucky I love you or I might have killed you for keeping this from me!” you spit out, livid about the entire situation. You felt betrayed.

Spider man had been around for years, save for the years after the snap. Did that mean that Jeonghan had lied to you about this since the beginning? I had to be, there was no other explanation other then-

FUCK!

The words that had left your mouth came back to you.

You’re lucky I love you… You’re lucky I love you…

The words echoed back, taunting you like the kids on the playground.

“You-“

“NOT THE POINT, YOON JEONGHAN!” You yelled out in panic.

“We are talking about this!”

“Right after you tell me what all this is about?” You gestured wildly to his mask and suit.

The black webs on red of his spandex contrasted starkly even in the dark of the night and Jeonghan had the guts to look sheepish.

“y/n, I- it’s complicated okay. There was this incident a few years with a radioactive spider and now I’m your friendly neighborhood spider. Please don’t hit me?”

His words came out so fast that you had trouble following.

“Still considering on that.” You shrugged, hands crossed over your chest.

You always had a weakness for Jeonghans puppy eyes and this time, just like the countless times before, they made you melt like butter in the sun.

“I hate you so much right now.” You sighed and Jeonghan cracked a smile.

“No, you don’t. You looove-“

Glaring hard at his smug grin you stared at the ground when Jeonghan stepped closer. You shivered in the cold of the night and your best friend gently loosened the grip you had on upper arms, taking your hand into his.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I should have told you. Maybe then things like tonight wouldn’t have happened” He raised his free hand to your face, fingers trailing down the side of it and sending shivers down your spine. This time not because of the cold.

“You were there, weren’t you? Just like always.” You swallowed with a lump forming in your throat.

“But I almost wasn’t.”

Whispering into the night quiet enough so a normal person wouldn’t have heard it. “Yet you were, and now get me inside. I’m still freezing and I’m tired.”

Jeonghan laughed loudly, hurrying to pull you towards the door to get inside you followed willingly. You would definitely make him tell you about everything in the morning and god better be with him when you do cause it will be the day Yoon Jeonghan will regret not doing so in the beginning.

But for now, all you wanted was get some much needed sleep.

“So you lo-“

“I will hit you!”

[sundaynightlive]

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

��Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: sexual tension, drinking, characters are drunk, clubbing, flirting and pining, i won't spoil the content of the chapter

wc: 14.5K

A/N: It's been... months. I know this. I got into a real bad writer's block and I am not sure it is entirely gone, but I have finally finished this chapter after struggling. I don't like how it turned out, feeling like I was all over the place with the idea and no matter how many times i proofread I just cannot get it right, but I hope that for the next chapter I do better! I hope you enjoy it and I am so sorry for taking so long!

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

<- Prev. chapter - Next chapter ->

CHAPTER 16

“Wayne…”

“It’s not that bad Eds, with the medication and all–”

“You don’t understand pops. This– Fuck Wayne… You can’t leave me like this, with this condition of mine I– I have no chance of a partner… I will be alone…” He couldn’t lose Wayne. He didn’t want to believe what he read in the doctor’s verdict after many tests done on the old man. 

The medication would only stall the end. There is no chance that lung cancer can be cured, and if there is any at all, it should have been caught before the spread… which did not happen in this case.

“Eddie, you don’t know that… And you don’t know if I will leave you son, don’t get rid of your old man just like that.” And Eddie could see Wayne’s eyes glistening with tears through the camera on his phone. He knows his uncle did not like these results either. He knows. Eddie could only think of the test results and knew how much money the chemotherapy sessions would cost. He knows that medication and hospital bills will go off the roof and Wayne’s retirement money is not going to cover it all up.

So Eddie has to make a decision. He needs to make money, lots of it, and his auto shop in the city is doing amazingly well. He needs to leave Wayne behind at Hawkins, even if it hurts him. He needs to take care of Wayne. His friends are here too, and Argyle was also planning to move here. He wanted to at least try to keep Wayne healthy. As long as he possibly can because with Wayne gone…

He would end up all alone.

He lets out a grunt as he secures the last lug nut of the center hub of a tire with his impact wrench. He turns it off and places it on the floor, rubbing the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks at his watch and stands up, wiping his knee that he used for kneeling.

“Gareth, did you finish the–”

“Yes, I fucking did, and it was a bitch, and I don’t ever want you to put me through that again.” The younger man whined as he tried to scrub off the excess of grease that was on his hands. Eddie winced at the sharp tone of his voice, but Gareth needed to learn how to do it, sooner or later.

It’s not an everyday occurrence to fix someone’s motor. A point where it’s not working but not broken enough for replacement. Breaking it apart, bit by bit in order to find the problem of it all and then putting it back together. It’s extensive, and it hurts your brain but someone’s gotta do it, and Eddie had already done it several times-

“I will put you through it whenever I want. Remember that you take thirty percent of what this person pays for fixing it. It’s not a cheap fix, maybe you can finally go to Hawaii.” Eddie chuckles and Jeff snorts in the background as he stops inspecting the motor of a car in order to laugh. Gareth scrunches his nose at both of his friends.

“It’s not wrong for me to want to be on a nice beach, drinking a coconut and then splashing on Caribbean water later on! Maybe even have a nice cute Hawaiian girl dancing next to a palm tree.” Gareth sighed dreamily while Eddie and Jeff turned slowly towards each other and let out a very ugly laugh. 

“Okay, um, nice imagination there Gar.” Jeff chuckled as he went back to checking his own car and Gareth simply huffed, puffing his chest out.

“You’ll see the pictures and you’ll envy me.” And he pushed by Eddie, walking towards the large sink that’s at the back where the toolboxes are. Eddie has a smile on his face as he then shakes his head and hunches over to see Gareth’s work on the engine. He inspects the bolts’ placing, if the vents were positioned correctly and–

“Boss, she’s back.” Jeff sings with a wiggle of eyebrows and Eddie raises one of his at him and then turns his head to see a woman, arms crossed over her chest, office attire on, short black skirt, black blazer with a baby pink blouse peeking from the V cut.

Compared to Eddie, who was wearing a white wife-beater and some overalls covered in grease, one strap down, and a messy bun on his head to keep the hair out of his face, and probably more oil. His eyes scanned the woman again, from head to toe, and he felt a little bit excited about seeing her.

“My favorite customer.” Eddie smiles as you tap your foot on the floor, wearing your low heels that are formal yet somehow modern.

“I swear to god Eddie, I am cursed. I am losing my patience with my car.” You whined out which only made him roll his eyes. For the past two months you and he had become friends, your car had to go into his shop many times because one week was the oil tank coming off and the next it was your radio malfunctioning, and Eddie had told you, time and time again–

“Your car is shit sweetheart.” You only gasped at his words and shook your head.

“No, it is not! It’s a little old, yes, but– It still runs.” You said, proudly so, sticking your nose up which only made Eddie squint at you.

“Mhm… and what happened to it now?” He asked with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes followed yours, and he noticed it. He saw how your eyes flickered to his biceps, how they puffed thanks to the press. He held back a smirk as your eyes found his again, your posture becoming straight once more.

“Well, I feel the brake pedal a little bit hard to press. It started this morning.” He tilted his head in confusion at that because he had looked over your brakes, and they looked fine, almost the best thing in your whole car. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he scratched the back of his neck in thought.

“Alright. Let’s go see.” And you gave him a nod before walking out from the open garage door. Eddie looked to his side as he followed right behind you and Jeff only winked at him before proceeding with his own car. Eddie rolled his eyes but then, when they centered back, they fell on your behind.

The skirt hugged you tightly, and it was the right shade of black for you. It wasn’t too short nor past your knees. It was a simple office attire, something that shouldn’t get him going the way it is. And it has been happening more and more as time went on. Ever since that stupid night where he got to taste you, even if briefly, it was enough for him to admit the attraction he had for you.

He had been trying to push that urge away. You are a friend, you two share the same group of people, and it would be stupid to enter into a physical relationship with you… But fuck if he didn’t want to turn you around, get your ass on top of the hood of your car and raise your skirt far enough that you would reveal yourself to him.

He wanted to wreck you, ravish every single part of you and his curiosity of how you are in bed sometimes gets the best of him. The whole year filled of pent up anger and frustration over you didn’t exactly leave. Even if you were at the top of his hit list before, you were also this forbidden fruit for him.

He had looked at you many times when he was supposed to despise you in body and soul. He hated himself when he caught his eyes staring at your cleavage more times than they should. Your body as it moved when you went clubbing with the whole group. Your lips against another person’s and how they moved gracefully against them.

And now, he tasted them. The softness, the flavor… and fuck he wanted more of that. It was greedy, he knew that, and he would have stopped these thoughts and these urges…

If it weren’t for the fact that he knew, he absolutely knew, you felt it too.

Ever since you broke up with Billy, the physical touches became more frequent, tentative, testing, and only just barely. A graze of fingers, a press on the shoulder, a bump, a shove. He could feel your eyes, he could feel you scanning him from head to toe whenever you all got together. 

He noticed how unsatisfied you were, whenever you complained about the hookups you had been having lately. He wondered if you were ever fully satisfied with Billy, but maybe your feelings made you feel like you were.

And he wanted to show you just how good he could make you feel. He wanted to show you what his body could do, what his urges could impulse him to do, and what his tongue could provoke. He wanted to brand himself in your brain and on your skin, mark himself in your memory. 

He wondered now if he could make a dent in your hood from how hard he would pound–

“Are you listening to me?”

Your voice took him away from his thoughts, and he nodded at you as he wiped his hands with the rag he had in his back pocket. You had turned around, at some point, and to be completely honest, the need of tainting you didn’t leave him one bit as he saw your scrunched-up face.

“Let me check the pedal, first and foremost.” With that, he rounded your car that you parked at the front of his shop, and he opened the driver’s seat. The smell of your perfume filled his nostrils and he took a deep breath in and leaned down, bending over to reach the brake pedal and press on it. 

Only for his hand to stop in the middle of it as a laugh exploded out of him.

“What? Why are you laughing!?” You asked, confused and stunned as he straightened up and held his hand up that now held something, your face flushing in embarrassment as you choked on your words.

“Isn’t this fucking adorable.” In his hand was a small hand-sized plushie, a Squishmallow to be exact, and it was a little bat. He squeezed it a few times and he assumed it was kind of like a stress ball for you. 

“I– It must have… fallen from my purse…” You wanted the earth to swallow you whole, Eddie could sense it, so he chuckled and squeezed it hard.

“I might keep him as payment. Matches my tattoo.” And he noticed your eyes drifting to his right arm and then back at the plushie, rushing over to him to try to snatch it away, only for Eddie to be quicker and move his hand all the way up. You frowned at him, a challenge in your eyes.

“You know what I will do if you don’t give it back.” And oh he knew. He is expecting it. He yearns to feel your body against his like that time with the Pringles can. The way you clawed up on his body, your nails digging into his shoulder as your chest was almost at his eye level when you tried to reach for the can. 

“You cannot do that now, your ass will show.” He only smirked at you as your mouth opened and closed, like a fish, and you looked at the bat plushie in his hand. “You didn’t have to make an excuse in order to see me, Peach.”

You scoffed at him and shook your head as embarrassment washed over you. He could easily keep pushing your buttons, but even he knows about work schedules. Begrudgingly, he handed over the small plushie to you and you snagged it out of his hand in a second with a glare in your eyes.

“I didn’t. You and I both know that.” You turned around to face your driver’s door, putting the plushie inside your bag again as you fixed things around and Eddie couldn’t contain himself. He wanted to have a smell of your perfume coming off from you. He leaned close, breath at the back of your neck and his voice three tones lower, sending shivers and electricity down your spine.

“Do we now?” He saw your shoulders tense slightly and he wished he could see your face. More confirmations that this thing was not one sided. He took a breath in and your scent is floral today, sort of, matching the air around you, the incoming spring. 

What he didn’t expect you to do was to turn around with a small smirk on your face, a cocky one and it made his eyebrow go up in question. Your eyes stayed on his as he tilted his head to urge you to talk.

“Sounds like you were the one who missed me, Munson.” 

And that really sent him close to the edge. He wanted to shut that pretty mouth of yours up. He wanted nonsense to come out of your lips. He wanted his name to be said, to be yelled as you unravel under his touch. Drooling so much that you wouldn’t be able to formulate words. 

“Cocky, aren’t you Peach?” You rolled your eyes at him, those pretty eyes he wants to see rolling to the back of your head. 

“But you are not denying it.” 

And oh you are playing a very dangerous game here because–

“Eddie, I’m sorry to interrupt your flirting session–” Gareth interrupted and Eddie almost growled at his friends as you stuttered, looking at his friend.

“Gareth– It’s not–”

“Sure, whatever you two say. Eddie, Mr. Gomez called. Said he wants to book a service for his collectible.” And Eddie groaned at that, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He was the only one in the shop who had enough training and experience to work with delicate cars. He is the only one that can take this kind of tedious and slow job.

“Right.” He sighed in defeat as he slowly turned to look back at you, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’ll be a hundred bucks.”

Your mouth fell open as your hand raised and swatted his shoulder, finally letting out a held-in chuckle from his throat, prompting you to smile as well. The relationship was different, yet it wasn’t. There’s just this back and forth between the two of you, more than simple bantering, more than simply getting on each other’s nerves. 

And he takes full responsibility for it, the question is… do you?

“No. You even tried to kidnap Carlisle.” Eddie frowned at the name, not understanding what you meant for a second, to then snort out, his eyebrows raising up in surprise as he looked at you.

“You named the plushie Carlisle? Are you serious?” You gave him an offended look and raised your nose at him. He wanted to crack up, but he held it in, you looked way too adorable to say anything about it.

“You named your Mustang She-ra.” He groaned and rolled his eyes, hating the day he told you about how he always puts a name on his most precious things. His electric guitar is called Gilda, while his van is called Kratos. 

“At least she is known, I don’t know where you got a name like Carlisle–”

“Twilight.” And Eddie could only hold it in for one more second before snorting and looking away from you, pressing his fist to his mouth. You only rolled your eyes at him and gave him a small shove on his arm which only prompted him to keep chuckling. 

“Of course it’s Twilight.” He only comments as he turns to look at you again. You flipped him off as you got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No payment?”

“You want a kiss or something Munson?” He knows it’s a joke, he knows it is but he also feels and hears the suggestion, the small and indirect invitation. He only smirks as he bends forward, his crossed forearms coming to a rest on the rolled down window as his face moves close to yours. 

Your eyes express confusion, but your body movement betrays you as you don’t move away from him, not even an inch. His grin is visible and his gaze holds fire and want as he quickly looks over your lips and then back at your eyes.

“Can’t get enough?” His voice was low, and you felt your whole body grow goosebumps at it and how intensely he looked at you. It was just one push and your lips would touch his, you could taste him again, and even more than before… but you can’t. You both can’t.

So you pushed him off on his shoulder, making him chuckle and stumble away from your driver’s window, still looking down at you. You cleared your throat as you started your car again and fixed the rear-view mirror. Your eyes lit up and looked at him once more.

“Oh, today we’re doing the pre-game at my apartment, so just bring whatever you wanna drink Munson.” His eyes widened slightly at that but still nodded at your instruction. It’s been a while since the group went out clubbing, and it would be the first time he and you would also go out on good terms. 

Before, when clubbing, you two stayed as far away as one could, the only incident where he got close being the one where a guy didn’t understand the word ‘No’. Now there’s no need for that separation, for that space… Would you two dance together? Hopefully not… because you don’t trust yourself not rubbing your body seductively against his. And he doesn’t trust himself in not grabbing your hips to pull you flush against him.

‘Get yourself together.’ You repeat in your head to yourself. Eddie is a friend. Just that and nothing more. He can’t be something more. It’ll ruin it. Curiosity be damned.

“Alright, we’re going to Scorpion, right?” You nodded at the name of the club, and he gave a hum of approval and tapped on the hood of your car to get you going. “Go before you are late to an important meeting or something, Miss Executive.” 

“I do my job well, what can I say.” Your voice is confident when saying that and Eddie has no power in teasing you about it. He liked it when you were sure of something, much more when it came to yourself. “See you later Eds.” 

“See you later Peach.” You gave him one small smile before you got out of his parking and drove off. He let a loud sigh escape his lips as he looked towards the sky, not noticing he was holding one to begin with.

How the fuck is he going to survive you tonight?

He remembers the outfits you wore when going out, and he had stared more than once in a single night. He hated you more than he did at the time for catching his eye. The dislike he felt for you gave him the stop sign to not flirt with you, but now– the only stop sign there is, is doubt.

He is perceptive, been so since a teenager, but you feel like a challenge. He never once doubted when approaching a woman to take home for the night, never had a long-term lover either, but you are different. Everything is different. 

Even if you two have the same attraction and same need, how can he be certain that it won’t be weird afterwards? How can he be certain that it won’t destroy the group you two finally can enjoy together and in peace? Is he ready to sacrifice that in order to have a piece of you? 

Now let’s say you two do end up having sex and continue doing so… what happens when one of you two decides to end it? Go for an actual relationship? How are you two going to face one another once that whole sex-buddy thing wilters into nothing? He doesn’t even know himself. He had always been confident but– this situation was new.

You’re no stranger. And that makes everything much more harder than before. 

“Eddie! Mr. Gomez!” He can hear Gareth screaming from inside again and he turns with a groan and a frown on his face. 

“I am going! Fucking christ!”

Those kinds of thoughts might need to be left aside for now.

—--------------------------------

You looked in the mirror to look at yourself one more time. You felt your heart race slightly from time to time and your belly turning as well, as if you had butterflies from nervousness and anticipation blooming inside. 

And you know why. And you hate the fact that you know why.

You had cursed at yourself when you promised you wouldn’t shave and yet you still grabbed the razor that was sitting on the corner of your bathtub. You said you wouldn’t do a lot of make up to impress, yet you did a full face. You also said you were going to wear something comfortable tonight, not wanting anything but to have fun with your friends.

And now you had some high-rise oxford pants with a short crop top that had long bell sleeves, and high heels on your feet. Pants you often used to show off your ass when dancing. You wanted to literally punch yourself because you know who you want to show off to. 

Why would you do this? To get some reaction from him? You already made up your mind that nothing was going to happen between the two of you. It cannot happen. The circle would break if you do… but maybe you end up not liking it and he feels the same way and you two end up as friends only?

That would be the best outcome. But what if you do like it and he doesn’t? That would make you feel horrible, and you know it because you want him to like it. To like you. To worship your body. You want him to remember you and even consider you his best. Maybe it is to show him what he has been missing for so long if he hadn’t been a douche from the start. Maybe it is because you just have an ego problem.

Either way,  Eddie has made his way into your brain almost every day… and even in your dreams.

The first time you dreamt of him was after the quick peck you gave him back at his house. You went to sleep, a little bit of a carousel going on in your head thanks to the alcohol you drank that night, but even the spins didn’t stop your mind from imagining things. 

You remember it, vividly so. He was at the end of your bed, standing and looking down at you. You were naked and felt as if you were burning all over, goosebumps forming in need of touch. His touch. 

He was shirtless, and you could imagine it perfectly thanks to all those mirror stories he posted on Instagram. You could remember every tattoo he had. His chest, his neck, his arms… You remembered them all, even the smaller ones, and you wished you knew the ones on his back if he had any.

He leaned down, planting a kiss on your collarbone first, and you could feel the stubble on his face tickle you, send shivers down every skin cell of your body, goosebumps worsening. His hands, his big ringed hands that also were filled with ink, trailed your sides, exploring you and taking in every dent, curve, and chuckling at the feel of that chicken skin he provoked on you. 

The chuckle sounded too real, so low that you truly believed he infiltrated your dream with a superpower he hid from all of you. Had he engrained himself in your brain so badly that you didn’t miss a single detail? You hadn’t noticed how much you’ve been wanting him till that night, and your body and brain let you know of that fact.

‘You won’t be able to fuck someone else ever again after me. Trust me on that Peach.’ That’s what he said before trailing his lips down your body, making you arch your back as his teeth often nibbled at different parts of your skin. You wanted those nibbles to turn into bites, teeth marking you, making you bleed, digging into the cells of your body until you were consumed by him. 

He was reaching that part of you that ached for touch, for friction, for satisfaction. That part of you that can try to make the fire inside you diminish if touched or worsen it, but you wanted to find out. His lips kissed your hips, hands gliding downwards as you looked down at him only to see him looking back with a grin on his face.

You let out a moan as you parted your legs for him to slot better in between them, his teeth biting a little harder at the skin on your hip in approval. You saw him slowly lay down on his belly, his smile never leaving his face as you felt a breeze on your wet center. It felt too real, too vivid, too lucid. You felt the coldness of it, the air, the pleasure around your clit thanks to it. 

But your body betrayed you that night and you jolted awake when your phone loudly rang, and the first thing you felt was the wetness between your legs. For Eddie. For Eddie Munson. You were wet for your past enemy, who became your friend, and now–

You didn’t know if you wanted to kill the person on the other side of the phone or thank them for stopping you from imagining stuff like that. It was just a wet dream you had and a friend was the protagonist. Those things happen, they’re normal… The problem was that the normal thing would be to feel weird and disgusted by it, but you felt the complete opposite. 

You wanted the dream to continue. You wanted that dream to go on and dream of what it would feel like to have his tongue on you and inside of you. You wanted to know if your imagination was kind enough to let you feel it entirely, just like everything else. But it cannot happen. You should have been glad it stopped where it did.

But the dreams didn’t stop, and sometimes you found yourself daydreaming in your office about them again, making you straighten up or jolt whenever you caught yourself doing so. You couldn’t let your body indulge in it, and much less your mind. 

It was no use. He just kept appearing in your instagram stories, and your eyes always looked for him in every room whenever you knew he was near or was going to be present. You are always eager to see him and it drives you mad. He drives you mad. And you hate him so much for making you realize–

That you want to ride him until he sees the earth from the moon or beyond.

Back in the present, you clench your eyes tightly so that you could forget those images, or how he leaned over today and his breath hit your face as well as his stupid cologne. It was leathery today, but also the hint of car oil lingered on him, which only made your stomach turn harder. 

He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing. Is he brave enough and has the guts you don’t have to take the risk? Does he have the same lingering thoughts you do? The what ifs? The consequences of it happening? If he didn’t he would have done something already… right?

You can’t take that step yourself, afraid of ruining it all. You finally can be at peace in your circle of friends, you repeat this to yourself every time you think about him as more than just a friend. When you think about his naked body against yours. When you think of how he would feel inside of you.

Would he be able to satisfy you? Fill you?

You doubt it. But, what if–

You jump in your place as a loud ring snaps you out of your thoughts. Your intercom goes off as it yells at you that your friends have arrived. You took one last look at yourself and nodded as you promised that this thing you were doing wasn’t for Eddie. It’s just a passing attraction. Something that will die down soon if not indulged. 

You sprayed one last bit of perfume before heading out of your room and into the living room area. You looked at the screen to see Robin smiling close to the camera with Steve and Jonathan behind her, waving at you. You shook your head at the goofiness of your friend and pressed the button to let them in, hearing the buzz through the speaker. They walked in and you unlocked your front door for them to just walk in.

You could feel your stomach turning a bit still, wondering if he would be in time, or if he was coming at all, and… the dread of seeing him with someone tonight. You didn’t think of that. Oh god, you didn’t think of– Why are you worrying? Isn’t it best if he goes with someone else tonight? Maybe if you see him with another woman, these desires will vanish… but what if it does the complete opposite?

What if you wish to be her? But he is nothing to you, just a friend, that’s it… You shouldn’t care if he goes with someone else, you really shouldn’t but why do you feel like you would be sort of hurt about it? Why do you feel like you are losing? 

What did Eddie Munson do for your brain to be this mushed because of him?

You couldn’t think too much of it because Robin walked in, holding a bag as if in victory, letting you know she brought vodka for tonight. You winced towards Steve as he walked in through the door, already sighing at the night ahead of him as designated driver for her and Jonathan. Argyle was the designated driver for Nancy, Eddie and you. 

“I swear Robin… I know it’s been a while since we’ve gone out but–” Steve started only to receive a glare from your best friend as Jonathan closed the door behind him.

“It’s been months! Plus, we can finally pregame all together!” And you were excited for it too. The pregames before being Eddie’s friend were a little tense, always on edge of saying the wrong thing in front of one another and making the night a bitter one.

Now another type of edge is nestled within you. Between you two. But it’s as if you cannot control yourself when around him. You always give a remark, a word, or a sentence with a double meaning, or you always one-up him in his closeness. If he brushes his thumb against yours, you brush your five fingers at the top of his hand. 

If he makes a joke with a flirty tone, you follow it through… like today, asking him if he wanted to kiss you again. He was the one who continued it, getting close to you, testing you, not even in a teasing manner. You know it’s not one-sided. This thing that is going on is affecting the two of you, and it’s a matter of never doing anything about it or… waiting for who breaks first.

“Chill Robin, it’s going to be a calm night.” Is what you say but do you truly believe it will be? The twisting in your stomach came again so you walked towards your kitchen to get some beers out as the rest walked in, ready to prepare the glasses, snacks, and drinks. You immediately popped open a can and took a chug out of it, wanting to quench whatever was inside your stomach.

“Is it?” Jonathan asked with a chuckle, looking at how you immediately started drinking. You glanced at him and gave him an innocent smile, receiving a roll of the eyes back as he leaned over the island counter to grab a beer himself. 

“Ugh…” Steve groaned as he looked at the beer, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is certainly not fair.”

“I drove us home last time. I held myself back because I knew you wouldn’t.” Jonathan chuckled and his boyfriend only glared at him in response, opening his mouth to say something to him only for the ringing to start again.

Goosebumps raided your skin from neck to toes. You moved a little too quickly as you walked out of the kitchen to rush to the intercom, looking at the screen. You felt your stomach twist when you saw him putting a cigarette out with a stomp as Argyle talked to him. Nancy was only shaking her head as she looked into the camera and waved. 

You bit your lip as you pressed the button, taking a deep breath in as it buzzed. Eddie looked up into the camera before walking in and he smirked, flipping his middle finger up towards you and that made the tension in your stomach loosen a bit. A chuckle escaped you as you shook your head at his antics. 

You can do this. If you keep this friendly banter like you always do it will be an easy task. It should be. You took a swig of your beer as you looked at the door and then back at the kitchen. 

You have to appear uninterested because if you do, you will believe it. You have to believe it. Nothing can happen between the two of you, and it should be clear that it shouldn’t because your friends are in the kitchen, and more are coming up. This wouldn’t have happened months ago. Eddie entering your home wouldn’t have happened, ever. 

You should appreciate what you have and stop asking for more. Stop desiring for more. Stop dreaming for more. It’s enough as it is, what you two have is enough. He’s been a great friend to you, letting you vent, lending you a shoulder, making you laugh, and it should be enough…

But that stupid fucking kiss always comes back.

The door opened making your head turn to see Argyle walking in first and immediately walking towards you to give you a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. You rolled your eyes as you smelled the weed on him already.

“Hello hello, my dudette.” He smiles at you as he looks behind him, making your eyes follow his gaze. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Nancy walking in, followed by Eddie who is holding a six-pack with one hand, the other stuck into the pocket of his denim jacket. Black shirt hugging his torso, tightly, the tattoos poking out from the small V-neck it has.

Your eyes drifted lower to see his signature dark pants with a few rips here and there, and then you went upwards again to see him in his– Your eyes widened when you just now realized he had his hair down. Your heart seemed to stop as you held your breath in because you only saw his hair down in those half-naked pictures he took of himself in front of his bathroom mirror. 

And fuck– fuck–

“For fuck sake Nancy, told you you tightened it too much.” Eddie groaned out and you had to look away, you had to. But you couldn’t. He had you in a trance as Nancy rolled her eyes at him.

“Not my fault your hair is frizzy and untamed today!” You tried to control your own breathing a bit. He definitely caught you off guard with this one. You fucking swore his hair was tied up downstairs when you saw him on the intercom screen. 

You snapped out of it by Steve yelling at Robin to stop. You sighed in relief as your eyes finally left his figure, landing on the kitchen’s open door, and seeing Steve taking the bottle out of Robin’s claws. You smiled knowing that she must have poured too much vodka on her drink, never knowing how to measure correctly.

“Oh the rest is here, Nance you’re gettin' lucky tonight!” Argyle yelled, not realizing just how loud his voice was. You snorted and looked away for Nancy to not see you laughing, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Eddie chuckled seeing Nancy’s reaction, her face beet red, but your snort made his gaze turn towards you and– God fucking damnit. You’re not playing fair. You really aren’t. He felt the sharp intake of breath that entered his lungs as he scanned your body, slowly, taking every inch of you and your outfit.

He knew it was going to be a hard night for him if he was going to hold back, but he never thought he was gonna go to war. 

His hungry eyes scanned your figure, your neck, your shoulders, down your body, taking in every fucking detail he could. Your breasts, your hips, your thighs, your inner thighs… He was desperate to taste you, to try you, to have you. 

“Don’t laugh!” Nancy’s yell made him snap his head back to his best friend as she continued talking, “Eddie needs a ponytail.”

The man mentioned only rolled his eyes, landing on yours again. You were already looking at him, and he noticed the little gleam behind them thanks to your whole facial expression, your body language.

The way he noticed how your breath picked up, your chest moving a little more elaborate than a normal pace, or how your eyebrows were sort of tense. Your eyes were open, yet he noticed how your top lids were slightly dropped. Your hands were gripping the beer can, tightly, and your legs were crossed while standing. 

He could almost smell you from across the room.

“Here Nance, take these to the kitchen while Peach gets something to tame all this.” Eddie motioned to his hair and Argyle only laughed as Nance grabbed the six-pack from Eddie’s hand and walked into the kitchen.

“Can’t give you any tips my dude, my hair ain’t the same form as yours.” Argyle says before following behind Nancy. Your eyes followed them and then went back to Eddie who was already looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Can you tame it?” 

And that question shouldn’t have made your entire insides turn. It shouldn’t mean anything but him talking about his hair, but you know it has a second meaning. You know it. He knows you know it and that’s why he does it. 

So you always play along. Because you know it affects him as much as it affects you.

“I bet I can.” Your voice was low, eyes staying on his as you talked. His head tilted slightly in amusement, the tip of his fingertips itching to reach towards you, show you exactly just how untameable he was. 

“Would like to see you try Peach.” And he took a few steps towards you, slow, boots hitting against the wooden floor, loud steps that matched the volume of your own heartbeat. He reached out and grabbed the can out of your hands and took a swig out of it. He then put it back in front of you, waiting for you to take it as his eyes held a challenging gleam, as if this was another test.

You knew he was playing cat and mouse with you, but you didn’t know who was who. Were you the mouse? Were you the cat?... No, you weren’t mousy anymore. You two were the hunters, but neither dared to pull the trigger to get the prey.

But you weren’t going to let this fucker get away with doing these kind of things so he would make you drool over him, to make you look desperate for him. Your body though… your body wants to see him squirm.

You grabbed onto the can and slowly brought it up to your lips, your eyes focused on the lid as you looked at the small drop of beer that was there, where his lips were just mere seconds ago. Your tongue darted out, and you looked back up at him before licking the lid clean from the beer.

His smirk dropped, his cockiness gone, as all that’s left was fire. A fire that was spreading rapidly and you were holding onto the large folding fan, intentionally waving it with a smile on your face. You fucking–

“Alright, I’ll find something in my room.” You talked and took a full on sip of your beer before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie’s eyes immediately fell on your ass, as you swayed it side to side and he only scoffed at the situation, at himself. 

The idea of not having you so easily is what made you more tempting, and it made him even more desperate to get you. He wonders if one fuck would cut it. If one fuck is all he needs for his curiosity to be over with you. If one fuck is enough to satiate this need to completely destroy you, ruin you, and make you lose your goddamn mind.

He doubts it.

He follows you across the living room and then goes into your bedroom. He takes a look around and now, enclosed in a space with you, in a space that is only yours made your perfume, your scent, grow tenfold. It almost makes him dizzy and fold over from how sweet, yet inviting it was. He wanted to press his nose in the crook of your neck and breathe you in, let you engrave yourself in one of his senses. 

“Tidy.” Is the only thing that comes out of his mouth as you walk towards your vanity to open one of your drawers. You felt your heart beating in your chest as your eyes drifted to the mirror to look at your queen-sized bed and your imagination started being evil with you and your body.

Flashes of him pinning you against your bed came in a rush, like a camera shutter, picture through picture. The positions change in every single one. You gulped as you felt your center throb in need, so you straightened up and clenched your legs together, looking back down into the drawer.

If you had looked at him for just one second there, you would have noticed how he was now looking at you. His eyes ablaze, breathing growing elaborate as his nostrils flared… 

“Well, of course, I had guests coming.” You finally grab a simple black hairband and close your drawer to then turn to him, ready to hand it over. “Here you go.”

A boyish smile broke on his lips as he walked over to the vanity’s chair to pull it out and sit on it, facing the mirror.

“You said you could tame it. Prove it.” You were stunned as you looked at him on the mirror. He wants you to do his hair? You cleared your throat as you got behind him and he straightened up as his eyes followed you, as if they had daggers in them just piercing you through.

“I don’t want to hear pain complaints, Munson.” He only chuckles at you, his smile making the butterflies in your stomach multiply for a split second.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” And you didn’t catch the ulterior meaning of that. Your hands went towards his hair, touching it for the first time. You started brushing it a little bit with your fingers, your nails scratching his scalp a few times, sending shivers through his whole body as you kept going.

“I’m not gonna use a brush, it will just make the frizz worse Eds.” You take the time to comment as you feel the static on his hair. He sighs, nodding at your response.

“I know. I couldn’t find my comb today, so Nance brushed it out.” You groaned at the response, your eyes furrowed in a confused frown.

“Nance has curls, she should know that you don’t brush them.” He lets out a snort at your response, and you are glad that even if you feel that attraction towards him, there’s no awkwardness between the two of you. It calms you down, knowing that if nothing happens, because nothing will, your friendship will still be there.

“Right? And then she blamed me for breaking her hairband!” He complained, making you giggle as you examined his hair. Your tongue stuck out in thought as you grabbed hair from his sides and you pulled them back to hold them together. You looked at him through the mirror and you held your breath as he tilted his head to the side, examining the new look.

You didn’t think a half ponytail would make a difference on his face but– fuck it fits him. You’ve never seen him with one before, and now you hate yourself for being the one who discovered this new look. The butterflies returned, and you shifted on your legs as your core throbbed once. 

“Um… do you like it?” You asked, trying not to sound strained as if you weren’t about to choke on your own drool. “I think that a bun is going to be untameable in a room full of sweat.”

He only chuckles at your thoughts and doesn’t miss the way you gulp or shift in your place as you look at him. Do you really think he doesn’t notice? Do you really believe that he is not looking at your every move?

“It’s different but– Can’t say I dislike it. It’ll do for tonight.” You nod and let go of the hair. You are now more precise in the amount of hair you are grabbing, combing it with your fingers before pulling it back. You want to mess with him as you see him close his eyes, enjoying the moment. You bite your lip, smirking, and you pull hard on his hair, making his head reel back.

“Oops– sorry–” But your voice is cut off as a groan, a growl to be precise vibrates in his throat, his adam’s apple going up and down, and you hear him take a sharp breath through his nose. His jaw clenches as his eyes open and– 

“I dare you to do that again, Peach.” 

Your whole body burns. The way he was looking at you is just– it was strong, threatening but not in a bad way. Not in a murderous way. It was something else… something that gave you the feeling that if you followed through and pulled his hair back again, the thin line that was separating ‘Friendship’ and ‘something else’ was going to break.

You want to pull it back. You want to. You want to see what he would do if you played the brat. You want to know what he would say. You want to test it, to try it, to taste it. Taste him. 

But you let go just a bit as you nod, taking a deep breath in and looking back down at the hair, trying to not let him see how flustered you got, how nervous you feel.

“Sensitive.” Is what you managed to reply with, trying to keep the act that it was just a playful act and that it didn’t faze you. Trying to keep the act that you are not fucking horny for the man that is sitting in your room. Trying to keep the act that you do not want him to push you onto the bed and take you like a fucking animal.

Eddie’s body is a furnace. He wonders how much he can push you to the edge until you absolutely break. Until you are begging for him, until you grab him by the shirt to kiss him senseless, for him to experience a true kiss with you. What the fuck did you do to him? He has to pull himself together. Even if he is willing to take the chance and make a move, it doesn’t mean you are willing to take that same risk.

He understands you and respects you above all. If it happens, it happens, but it would never be without your consent. But he is not reading the signs wrong. He is reading them correctly and very attentively. 

Right now you could have followed his lead, but you didn’t, so he will back off… for now.

“No, it took me a while to grow all this amazing hair. I won’t let you yank it and destroy it.” His tone became playful once more as you tied the bun behind his head. He smiled again towards you and you returned it, a little forced. He wants to smirk knowing that he made you a little nervous, not in an uncomfortable way.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Your hands finally leave his hair and he looks into the mirror and turns his face a couple of times, a raised eyebrow in exaggeration that makes you roll your eyes. 

“Acceptable.” You scoffed at his simple response and he chuckled, getting up from the chair and towering over you once again. He turned to look at you, his eyes finding yours as your bodies stood a little too close to one another. You didn’t know if you were breathing correctly or not at this point. “Thanks Peach.”

“N-No problem.” Fuck, you stuttered. “Anyways, let’s go back with the others before they think we killed each other.”

“I mean, we could have also fucked, but yeah, we should go before they drink everything.” And just like that, as if he hadn’t said the most shocking thing, he walked out of your room, leaving you completely frozen. You were staring at the door, mouth slightly open, eyes completely still in position as your blood began circulating again.

Your body was on fire, your mind a mess, mixing with his scent and with his words, making matters worse for you. You felt your heart beating in your chest as little butterflies flew all about. 

You have to keep your head centered, your mind needs to recollect itself because you cannot show this in front of your friends. And that made you look at yourself in the mirror, face relaxing a bit as your shoulders slump down a bit. Friends. Yeah. You need to keep yourself under control, you are not an animal. You can fight this urge, you had before in your life with other people, you surely can now.

He is a friend. This crush, this attraction, will pass if not indulged.

You managed to take a deep breath before walking out of your room, grabbing your beer from the vanity, and seeing your friends having moved their endeavors from the kitchen into your living room. Your eyes fall on Eddie immediately as he sits down on your couch next to Steve, beer in hand and listening to his best friend.

“Now that’s a new hairstyle.” You heard the freckled man comment as you walked towards the chairs they grabbed from your dining table, putting them around the coffee table where all the drinks and snacks were placed. You sat down next to Robin who was preparing Nancy her drink, making you wince at the amount of rum she was pouring in.

“Robs, maybe let others manage the drinks?” You commented, making your friend glare at you, putting the bottle down.

“Why? You got something to say about my bartending abilities?” And Nancy only winced next to her, taking the glass Robin was preparing and pouring half of the rum into an empty cup. Robin’s mouth fell agape as she looked at her girlfriend.

“You do make them pretty strong baby.” You noticed Robin’s blush and you held in a smile as you looked to your front, seeing Eddie looking at the same thing, his eyes clashing with yours with a smile on his face.

You were both happy your two friends finally made it official, but it was still pretty funny to see Robin blush after acting tough and dominating in the flirting stance of the relationship. It’s a funny dynamic to watch. Robin huffed and helped Nancy fill the rest of the glasses with coke as you took a sip of your beer.

“So, this bouncer is a regular at Jonny’s?” Eddie asked as he looked at Steve and then back at Jonathan and the latter nodded as he drank a bit of his drink.

“Yeah, he’s gonna let us go in for free, even give us two free drinks and VIP section.” At his words, Steve frowned.

“You sure he isn’t trying to come onto you? Does he know you are taken, my love?” Steve’s voice was syrupy, making you giggle into the can as you looked back and forth, but you had to be honest and say that… it did sound compromising on the other guy’s part. 

“Pretty sure, he is married, has two gorgeous kids even.” Jonathan smiled but the mention of kids only made your stomach curl slightly. You looked down at your can, not noticing the pair of brown eyes staring at you, gaze softening as he watched your body language. 

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to suck your cock Jonathan.” Eddie says and that made you spit your drink into your can, followed by your laughter, making him smile while looking at you. “You know I’m fucking right!” and you could only nod at that.

“Y-Yeah! It– It doesn’t mean anything Jonathan, oh my god…” You coughed as you tried to stop your laughter, the comment catching you completely off guard. The rest of the group was laughing except for the couple that was just frowning, one in confusion and the other in anger.

“I– I swear it’s not, it’s just– He is a regular with his other friends…” You knew Jonathan was putting the puzzle together in his head while Steve only groaned exasperated, shaking his head at his boyfriend.

“We’re not going.” His voice was low as he took a sip of his beer and everyone, including yourself gasped and started complaining at him. Argyle even stood up, pointing a finger at him.

“The other guy already compromised, when he sees Jonathan with someone else, he can’t say ‘no, you cannot go in!’” He stated and you nodded wildly, looking at Steve with pleading eyes.

“If he does, his intentions would be obvious! He just won’t invite Jonathan again!” Eddie nodded at your statement and looked back at his best friend. There was a hidden intent in his mind to try to convince his friend. 

He wanted to watch you dance in that outfit.

“Yeah man, he already told Jonathan he would let him through.” And Steve only groaned in defeat, rolling his head exasperated. 

“Fine. But I will punch his face in if he tries anything at all and I hope I don’t see him in the bar either after this.” He takes a sip of his beer while Jonathan rolls his eyes, sitting on the floor next to Argyle once more. Everyone else let out a sigh of relief and the music played in the background. 

And after a few drinks, cans of beer, and a few little games–

“Okay no, I didn’t say that! I said–” You yelled with a slight slur as everyone else tried to hold in their laughter, Eddie chuckling as he shook his head.

“You literally said, HEAR ME OUT, when I sent you a video of Venom… of Venom, Peach!” You were laughing, your eyes slightly red as you sat next to Nancy in the backseat, Eddie sat in the passenger seat, and Argyle was driving, completely sober. Nancy was cracking up as she patted your shoulder a few times.

“You’re fucking right though!” She said to you and you turned to face her and nodded wildly with excitement in your eyes.

“Right!? It’s the tongue!” And you two could hear a groan of disgust from Eddie and Argyle at the front of the car. Eddie was buzzed as well, eyes glossy from laughing the whole drive to the club. He has been going at you from a past conversation you two had with your weirdest crushes. 

He thought his were weird… he was wrong.

“It’s– He can literally eat you alive in two bites!” Eddie yelled as he ran his hands over his face trying to stop laughing and Argyle only nodded his head, looking at Eddie for a second.

“Hot.” And Argyle’s response made the three intoxicated people in the car start laughing once more. When Eddie and you are together with your friends, the flirty bantering drops completely, and it’s moments like these that fill you with joy. It’s just when the two of you are alone that somehow the flirty remarks escape your mouth.

You don’t want those moments with your friends to be filled with awkwardness, or nervousness if something were to happen between Eddie and you. You might lose that forever, and not to mention losing Eddie as a friend. You doubt that friendships remain the same after having sex with each other. 

But the beer in your system tonight… it’s being your worst enemy at the moment.

After parking and getting together with the others, you all walked the block towards the club. You could hear the music thumping already, making your excitement grow as you all went forward to the VIP line that was forming outside. Eddie stood behind you as Jonathan stood in front of you all. 

His hand rested on your lower back as he guided you in front of him through the line so people wouldn’t bump into you, and you couldn’t even feel the chill of the night because of it. Not even after everyone got inside after Jonathan proved that the guy, the bouncer, was actually being friendly with him. The club felt humid, hot, and you still felt the lingering touch of Eddie’s fingers on the small part where your skin showed between your top and pants.

Your mind needed a distraction from it all, but when you turned and saw how the lights of the club hit his face just right, you felt your stomach do a complete turn, twisting into itself. He was smiling as Steve laughed about something to him while you all walked towards the bar. You had to get yourself together, this cannot happen, not at all. Your urges can be satisfied with someone else, or by yourself. 

But you weren’t the only one who couldn’t look away. Eddie noticed it. All the time. He knew that his mind, even if hazy, wasn't playing any tricks on him. He looked at how you leaned over the bar, giggling with Robin next to you and pointing to the card to see what you would order. His eyes scanned all over your body, slow, and uncontrollably so.

The alcohol is making his desire even worse than before and his rational mind is slipping away slowly, that little thread of doubt of making the next step disappear each second and song that passes. 

His eyes widen with Steve when he sees the bartender hand you a bucket full of ice with champagne and redbulls inside while Robin grabs various glasses. You turn with a smile on your face as you walk over to them again, Eddie crossing his arms as he scans you.

“Well, you gonna share?” He manages to speak loudly over the music as you smile up at him and shake your head.

“Not with you Munson!” You giggled at him as Nancy guided you all to an empty small table for you to put the bucket on. He laughed as Steve rolled his eyes, huffing again for not being able to drink at all as they walked to the table.

“Robin! Get your hands off the champagne bottle!” Eddie yelled as he snatched the bottle from Robin’s hands, causing the blonde to pout at him.

“Fuck off Eddie!” Suddenly, the table rattles as someone deposits another bucket filled with ice and beers. Steves turns his head to see Jonathan smiling widely.

“Invitation from the bouncer. His wife is the cashier of the bar!” Steve only rolled his eyes while everyone cheered for the free drinks. Eddie popped off the champagne easily as you jumped in excitement next to him. He chuckled as he began pouring the drink halfway into the glasses. You helped by pouring the redbulls in, filling them all up to the brim. Everyone except for Argyle and Steve grabbed glasses and clinked them together before starting to drink.

The buzz was good, minds becoming even more blurry and hazy than before, yet keeping the consciousness intact, except for Robin because she always poured too much alcohol in her glasses at the pregames. Steve was trying really hard to take Robin’s drinks away but she only avoided him, grabbing Nancy’s hand and yours with the other. You giggled as you tried to keep your drink steady in your hand as Robin pulled you both into the dancefloor. 

You laughed when Nancy and Robin sandwiched you in between them as they grind against your body, listening to SZA playing in the speakers, the lights blinding you slightly, making you a bit dizzy in a fun way. You took a sip of your glass as your hips moved from side to side, slowly, unaware of the brown eyes that looked at your every move from across the dancefloor.

Eddie chugged his champagne down, his eyes moving away from your body to try to think of something else, for someone to catch his eye and to occupy his mind but nothing worked. The spin in his head only made him turn his head towards you again. Jonathan was chuckling, pecking Steve on the mouth many times, trying to make his boyfriend laugh, and it seemed it worked. 

Eddie’s drunken mind couldn’t help but wander to more dangerous territory, a place where you are still not there, and Eddie is thankful for that. When he sees Nancy or Steve, he wonders if there is someone out there for him. He wonders if he even has a chance. He wonders if there is someone out there that won’t let him be alone for the rest of his life like he always thought he was going to end up as. 

But even his intoxicated mind sometimes connects dots, and he is stricken by the realization that… if he makes a move on you, what is going to happen later? What if it escalates into things he is not used to? What if he curses you with who he is? With what he is? Would you even want him if you knew half of what he was and is going through?

That only prompts him to grab another can of beer from Jonathan’s bucket. He opens it and starts chugging it, only to feel a presence by his side. When he looks down, his eyes clash with yours. You are smiling, and by how your eyes are half lidded, he knows you are drunk, just like he is. 

And fuck you look hot like this.

“Give me one?” You asked, innocently, your hips swaying slightly to the rhythm of the music still, and his eyes darted downwards to them before looking away and getting a can out of the bucket. He was about to hand it over to you, your hand reaching out to grab it, only for him to rip it away again, making you pout. “Hey!”

“Magic word?” He grinned at you, wiggling the can in his hand. Your friends were oblivious to you two, already used to the antics of bothering one another. Nancy and Robin were making out on the dancefloor, Jonathan was pulling Steve towards it while Argyle seemed to spot someone and disappear into the crowd. 

You stared at his hand and then back at him. The buzz made you bold, your worries slipping, your thoughts disappearing, making the impulsiveness take over. You wanted to mess with him. You wanted to tease him. You wanted to be mean, desired, try to make that thread that separates friendship to something else waver a bit. 

You took a step forward, your body sticking to his, and your eyes never left his in every movement. His eyes didn’t widen, but his breathing became elaborate as you raised yourself on your tippy toes in order to get closer to his face. You could smell the beer from his breath, the wooden cologne, the sweat, and it made your insides turn and melt in need. 

His eyes went back and forth between your eyes and lips, not knowing where to stay. He felt his belly burn and ache, twist as your perfume invaded his space, your body heat invaded his own, and all worries started to vanish again. All thoughts, all rationality were rendered stupid as he looked at your lips. 

“Please…?” It was soft, a whimper, a moan almost. Eddie’s brain short-circuited, not noticing his arm lowered as his eyes looked into yours. You were so close, and all he needed to do was wrap his arm around your frame and lean down, take your lips into his, kiss you stupid, senseless, make you yearn for more.

You were trying to keep a cool exterior, but inside you were in flames. Would it be so bad to have a taste? Would it really cause all the chaos your sober mind conjured up? Would it be so bad to kiss his lips again? To tangle your tongue with his? Take him properly? 

He tilted his head slightly at you, the music, the people, all just became muffled background noise. He could feel your chest moving up and down, your breathing turning quick. He didn’t even smirk, not a grin, as he lowered his head towards you, his voice lowering a few tones, but loud enough for you to hear him. His lips were almost brushing on yours as he spoke.

“Please what, Peach?” 

You felt your knees becoming weak, wobbling slightly at the closeness. Your heart was in your throat, beating intensely, making your breathing elaborate. His eyes were stuck on yours, waiting for your next move, for your next retort, to know if you would continue or if you would back out. 

And you don’t want him to win. Not this. Not like your Mario Kart plays. He cannot win this. You won’t be the one to break. You placed your hand on his hip, giving it a soft press and you saw how he closed his eyes and you don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the vibrations of the bass in the club, but you felt tingling on your fingertips and what sounded like a groan vibrate in his throat before he opened his eyes again.

“Please Eddie…” His stomach turned at your whimper, at your pout, at the needy look in your eyes. You both don’t know what you were asking for any more. Your eyes were going back and forth between his and then his lips. He could feel his hip burning where you were grabbing him, his heart racing in need as his head moved forward, a magnet. He was going in and you noticed.

But it was short-lived, as you snatched the can out of his grip thanks to him being distracted and you took a step back and away from his lips. His eyes were wide, looking at you as you opened the can, moving your hips happily from side to side to the rhythm of the music, not looking at him at all. 

You took a sip, and even if you wanted to look at his reaction, you turned and walked back into the dancefloor. Your nerves were all over the place, your mind twirling like a carousel because of the adrenaline, the alcohol, and the worry that the sober you will deal with the next day. And Eddie watched you walk away, his eyes burning and he did a quick turn to grab a can himself and chug it down.

He was angry. Oh so fucking angry.

He didn’t want anybody right now. He felt like a predator and he had to calm down. He had to drink alcohol for his mind to shut off, afraid of how he could act here, in front of all of your friends. He could care two shits for the strangers, he would fuck you in the middle of the dancefloor to show you who’s in fucking charge here.

Eddie didn’t like that thought. He cracked his neck and chugged the rest of the can down, hoping the alcohol would take effect soon. He spent the night talking to Argyle once he came back, who was not the dancing type, just like Eddie was. He had seen a few of his past hook ups walking by, batting their eyes at him, but he didn’t want anything to do with them. His arousal plummeted at the thought of sleeping with them.

After an hour, Argyle said he would be back only to leave Eddie alone again, but not for long. Someone patted his shoulder and he turned around to see Steve holding Robin up with Nancy on her other side while Jonathan held all their coats.

“Robin is already blabbering nonsense.” Steve stated and Robin giggled, wobbling in her place as she shook her head.

“You– are nonsense, dingus~” She slurred and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh and nod, looking down at Nancy.

“I am assuming you are going with them?” He asks, noticing his tongue is a little slurred too, his anger slowly lifting up as his friends offer distraction.

“Yeah– Can’t leave her alone you know?” He nodded at that and patted Steve on the shoulder and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

“Go to Jonathan’s. Just in case.” At that Steve sighed and nodded, making Eddie chuckle.

“I’m not stupid, of course I’ll go to Jonathan’s…” He looked back at Robin who suddenly made a gagging motion and he immediately spurred into action, straightening her up. “Alright birdie, time to go before you make a mess of yourself publicly.”

Jonathan wobbled towards Eddie and gave him a kiss on the cheek and then a pat before walking out of the club first. Steve guided Robin out and Nancy gave him a hug and Eddie knew she was also drunk, hugging her back.

“Alright Nance, go take care of your girlfriend.” At his words, Nancy only giggled in delight as she pulled away and bounced a bit in her place.

“Girlfriend, she is my girlfriend, yes, I gotta go take care of my girlfriend!” With that, she rushes away from him, leaving him alone at the table where you all gathered your drinks. He looks around, the people dancing and walking around and he realizes it’s just you, him and Argyle… who he hasn’t seen in a while. 

So he ventures forth. He leaves the table behind as he walks through the crowd of people, rounding the dance floor, and in just two minutes he spots Argyle with a chick. Eddie wanted to holler at his friend, but by the way she was dressed and from pictures Argyle showed him… this was the girl he had been seeing lately. His perfect date and match as he called her.

He took a step forward and he felt his mind spin slightly and now he is feeling that last beer he chugged. He felt light, with a good buzz, his limbs relaxed as he looked into the dancefloor, and his eyes immediately found you.

You were dancing alone, a little bit of sweat on your forehead, moving your head from side to side to The Weeknd playing through the speakers. His feet moved automatically towards you, unable to control himself. His anger from before was coming back up again, but it wasn’t in full force. 

You were oblivious to your surroundings, not noticing you were dancing alone at all. The beer you stole from Eddie was still in your hand as you took sips, your hips going from side to side. You wanted the distraction, because your mind was becoming less rational, less conscious of your decisions, impulsiveness taking hold of your body movements the more you drank from that can of beer. 

Some people call it liquid courage, but for you tonight, it was liquid demise. Much more when a strong hand pressed on your shoulder, making your eyes open and turn around, trying not to tumble in your place. Deep brown eyes with red all around were looking down at you with an eyebrow raised in question. 

His forehead was a bit sweaty, so his fringe was sticking to it. His hair was a tad greasy, making it look kind of wet, which only added more to the look. Your stomach only turned even more at the sight, and he leaned forward, his breath hitting your ear which made your center only pulse for him, asking for him.

“Everyone else left Peach. Argyle is with Eden in a corner here.” He whispered to you and you nodded a bit, but words were stuck in your throat from how low his voice sounded, of how close he was. His breath sent shivers down your spine as it hit your ear, squirming at his mere presence. You licked your lips as you took a sip of the beer and he pulled away.

“What happened?” You slurred and Eddie only laughed at your tone making you pout. He noticed the pout and he bit his bottom lip in order to not succumb to the alcohol’s impulsiveness.

“Robin was about to pass out. Nance went with her.” And it dawned on you that you two were alone… the only friend in the club was occupied, distracted, eyes averted from the two of you. 

“How come you are not drunk?” You yelled through the music with your pout intact and he rolled his eyes, which was a bad idea because his head only whirled around and he only laughed, making you tilt your head confused but still smiling at his display.

“Oh, no, I’m drunk– Trust me, that last beer is starting to hit.” And you noticed the slight slur in his words, making you bite your bottom lip as you saw him smile, his canines showing in the middle of the purple lights of the club. 

The song ‘Pray for me’ started playing and you threw your head back in delight as your hips started swaying seductively, taking a sip of your beer. Eddie’s smile slowly dropped as his eyes scanned the expanse of your exposed neck, the sheer sweat and glitter on your skin as he throbbed inside his pants for you.

You opened your eyes again, a smile on your face as you let the impulsiveness of irrational actions take over. You grabbed his hand, ignoring the shock that was sent to your fingertips, smiling innocently at him.

“Dance Munson!” You yell through the music as you turn around in order to give your back to him. He sucked in a sharp breath as you moved in front of him. His eyes roamed your body as it moved from side to side and his hands itched for more. You were still holding his right hand and his throat bobbed as he felt shockwaves through his body thanks to your touch.

You knew what you were doing, but you couldn’t care anymore. Your rational mind was gone, even if conscious and knowing what you were doing, you cared two shits for the consequences of your actions. Will you regret it the next day? Probably, but right now you just want to bask in this attention, in this need. 

You took a sip of your beer as you moved lower, your ass almost touching him as you swayed it, and then straightened up again. Your breath catches in your throat when the hand you were holding lets go and starts gliding over your arm, slowly, and then goes downwards to grab onto your hip. 

A strangled moan escapes your lips when his body is suddenly pressed against yours. His chest on your back, and his hips against yours. His other hand went to your hip but moved a bit more to your front, pressing the side of your belly with the tips of his fingers. That simple action made your pussy clench onto nothing. 

You feel his hips moving slowly against yours and you press your ass onto him even more. You have danced close to Steve and Jonathan before, even Robin, but with him it was different. This wasn’t just a friendly dance. This is so much more. Every touch means so much more than just that. Every movement was intentional now, the alcohol controlling the both of you as the music guided your hips.

His face came close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin again, and your heart jumped to your throat as his fingers dug into your hips, your flesh, and it was making those areas burn. Your hips moved very slowly, never stopping as he talked lowly to you, tickling you.

“What do you think you are doing Peach?” You licked your lips as a sigh escaped them afterwards. In all honesty, you didn’t know, your mind is not ready to think of an answer to that right now. What were you doing? What was your plan? What’s going to happen?

That’s something you can worry about tomorrow.

You slowly turned around in his arms, looking up at him, squinting your eyes. His face was close, his breath and scent driving your senses to an overdrive. Your eyes were half-lidded thanks to the intoxication in your body, and his face was showing hints of redness as well. His right hand rested on your hip still while the left one moved upwards, getting hold of your waist.

“I’m just dancing… with a friend.” He wanted to laugh at your response. You were such a fucking bitch. You still dared to call him a friend after your words, after your ass pressed against his dick. His face became stern as he looked down at you, his fingers giving a warning press onto your hip.

“You are overdoing it tonight, sweetheart.” It was a threat, a line he was drawing between the two of you. You knew you were. You knew you were being a fucking idiot, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were fixated on his lips, and you shouldn’t do this while drunk. You shouldn’t but– when else were you going to?

Your arms went upwards and wrapped around his shoulders, the can of beer gripped tight on your left hand as you looked up at him. You pressed your chest against his as the hand on your waist moved towards your back, splaying his palm over the expanse of it to press you into him. 

You two were drunk. Not smashed, but you can both blame it on the intoxication. It’s a good excuse. A perfect one. This is just the alcohol’s doing, just the stupidness of the drinks you took through the night taking effect. It was an opening, a leverage, an opportunity.

And you were going to take it.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” You mumbled as you pressed yourself closer to him, and everything around the two of you ceased. The music became low, suppressed, and reverbed even, as your ears pulsed at each bass drop. His body was broader than yours, his body felt hot against yours as his hands gripped you, his head lowering with a smirk in his face.

“Did I? You sound bothered.” Your lips were almost there, about to touch, even if barely. His breath was mixing with yours. You could smell the beers, and you could feel how hot the air around you two was. His fingertips were driving you insane, and your impulses talked for you. 

Fuck this. 

“Shut up Eddie.” And you connected your lips to his. Your brain short-circuited, completely, it felt as if the oxygen left it, leaving only fog, haziness, bliss. You sighed into his lips as he breathed out a moan, a very low satisfied moan. 

He didn’t hesitate to move his lips against yours this time. This wasn’t going to be a peck. He needed to kiss you correctly, as it should have happened. His grip on you became stronger, his blood pumping rapidly through his body as the alcohol and hormones started to fight his consciousness, what little was left. 

You dropped the can to the floor, not caring where it landed, there wasn’t much left anyway, you needed to grip his hair, get your fingers through his locks the way you have been wanting to do for so long. So you did just that. Your hands ran from the back to his neck towards his scalp, fingers digging where they could, the tightness of his half ponytail already loosened through the course of the night, letting your nails run freely.

Your lips melted perfectly with one another’s, satisfaction in both of your hearts, but you know this won’t fill you. You know this satisfaction is temporary, a small victory, so you will enjoy this for as long as you can. 

He groaned into the kiss when he felt your nails scratch his nape. He felt himself twitch in his pants, wanting friction against you as he let go more each second that passed, which was dangerous. The hand on your hip traveled south, and ended grabbing a handful of your ass cheek, making you moan in surprise. 

He took your moan as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and fuck– fuck he was ruined. He was in trouble. You were so sweet, even with the beer taste still lingering in your mouth, on your tongue, you tasted so sweet. Like a fucking peach. He couldn’t help the possessive moan that escaped him as he gripped your ass tightly once more. 

You felt wetness pooling between your legs, the idea of doing something you really shouldn’t adding to the adrenaline, to the sensuality of the situation, but you couldn’t care less right now. All you could think about was Eddie. Eddie and his taste. Eddie and his tongue. Eddie and how fucking good of a kisser he is. Eddie and his big hands grabbing onto any part of your body that he could right now. Eddie and his tattoos. Eddie and his shirtless pictures. Eddie and the happy trail that always peeks out when he takes them. 

His tongue danced with yours, desperately, sloppily, all saliva and teeth, as if this was something you two have been yearning to do for more than you actually think. And maybe it was indeed that way. You just wanted to keep kissing him, but you also wanted to take him home. You wanted to fuck him. You need to fuck him. 

And Eddie won’t be satisfied with this. He knows it. Even in his drunken mind, he knows he won’t be happy until he has you completely. He fucking hates you for this, but he just decided to not care for the consequences. Sober or not. If he doesn’t have you anytime soon, he is going to explode, that’s how he feels. He needs to consume you. Taste you. Claim you. At least once.

You two don’t know how many minutes you spent it making out, like two horny teenagers, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. Everything else didn’t exist right now. It was just the two of you, and your eyebrows twitched as you opened your eyes through the kiss and–

Oh, you were completely drunk. Opening your eyes was a mistake.

You pulled away, recovering your breath as your head fell backwards, eyes closing as your consciousness started to slowly slip away from you. Eddie’s eyes widened, his protectiveness overlapping his lust and his intoxicated state. He held you tightly, feeling you grow limp with each second that passed. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you, shaking you a bit in order for you to open your eyes.

“Peach? You alright?” His worried voice felt like a distant echo. You just wanted to sleep, your mind feeling as if it were on top of a horse in a carousel. It wouldn’t stop spinning, and you were starting to feel so sick.

“Mmm…” It’s all you managed to voice out as you opened your eyes, just a bit, and Eddie noticed that the last beer hit you harder than it should have, and what you two had done just now probably made it worse. 

“Alright, time to go home, let’s get Argyle.” He held you close, and the only thing you felt was as if you were floating. The lights in the clubs were dizzying, your head swirling and your stomach ache worsening. You couldn’t even think of regret for all the drinks you took. You just want to be at home and make this uncomfortable feeling wash away.

You know you were being carried, moved, and it all felt like a rollercoaster. You don’t even know if you puked or not. All you know is that at one point the flashing lights stopped, the hum of an engine was heard, and then you swayed from side to side as your head laid somewhere. On something strong.

The often pinch on your waist waking you up from falling into slumber. More swaying, more ups and downs, and then your feet were no longer on the ground. There were warm lights, and the sickness sort of dulled through this whole amusement park tour you just did. 

Then, softness. Just softness. You could finally close your eyes, hoping for this feeling to go away. Hoping that tonight would be forgotten, or hoping that whatever happened tonight would be enough. Sleep overtook you quickly, easily, but your dreams decided to still invade you. Sober you will wake up tomorrow… and probably regret it all. 

But… that’s a problem for the you of tomorrow. For now, you’ll just enjoy this dream. One where a certain metalhead touches you all over, his tongue running on every inch of skin, kissing you senseless as he rubs onto you, caressing you. This was the only way it would happen, wouldn’t it?

And you slept soundly, with the scent of cologne all around you. 

The wooden cologne.

end of chapter 16

<- Prev. chapter - Next chapter ->

A/N: I DONT' THINK I CAN APOLOGIZE ENOUGH FOR HOW LONG I TOOK IM SO SORRY.

Taglist is closed! I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.

Taglist: @katethetank @seatnights @bebe07011 @seventhlevelofhell

@babez-a-licious @arsenicred @bl4ckt00thgr1n @harrysgothicbitch

@fictionalcomforts @sarcastically-defensive17 @lodeddiperrodrick @corrodedcoffincumslut @ghost-proofbaby

@take-everything-you-can @nope-thanks @eddiesxangel

[lagomoz]

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Peter Pevensie post did well.

Here's Edmund.

Edmund has trouble putting down his chess pieces that first time. In Narnia he could assume his opponent knew what he was doing, that chess was not just a game, that sacrificing pieces meant a unit, an officer, a collection of friends never seen again.

No one remembers that back in England, where chess is just a game, not a play preparing you for war.

He loses badly the first few times, too often distracted by thoughts of his dead friends. Thoughts of the ones alive, that he hopes to see soon.

Then he becomes unbeatable. When chess is about strategy again, no longer conjures images of men dying, sacrificed to gain a tactical advantage, Edmund becomes a master. Chess champion, of his region, of the country. Not a piece too many suffers.

It takes a few months. Those first ones in boarding school, Peter has to guard him. When bullies gang up on him for his strange way of talking (as if generals listen to his advice), strange way of walking (as if there is a weight on his hip), strange way of behaving (as if there are servants for his every need) Peter protects him. They've seen protective brothers; they've never seen anything quite like Peter, who hits until bone breaks.

Edmund will often remark on how the punches thrown his way lack technique, don't really hurt.

Everyone wonders how a 110 lb 11 year old kid knows anything about punching technique. He's a scrawny white boy from the city, doesn't look even slightly dangerous. How many fights has he been in, everyone wonders, to know what type of blow breaks bone, how to collect fingers into a fist.

When he is not protected by his brother, he displays the tricks he learned in treacherous courts in fantasy lands where the men could snap him in half with half a finger, where monsters ruled. Where only his silver tongue kept him safe.

It keeps bullies far away from him. They're not just afraid of physical repercussions, but of being expelled, reputations ruined, careers unreachable before they begin.

Peter retaliates either way, physical punishment along with the other repercussions. Still, it's strange to hear that the lanky sleepwalking teen mostly interested in political science knows anything about fighting, about blood.

By the third month in boarding school, Edmund has the staff wrapped around his finger.

His tongue is as silver as the lion ring he wears. Ed can talk any opponent into submisson. He can talk any girl into his bed, too, despite other men vying for their company. Sometimes he does it just to prove a point. It earns him a few more fights than he had to be in, but that's okay.

The ones stupid, angry or brave enough to physically fight him learn fast Edmund isn't easy prey, that he knows how to fight, how to think, how to outmanouvre you. Peter is a tornado, all fury, but Ed fights like a chess master. No wasted movement, no unnecessary punches, not moving a single inch more than he has to.

Fighting Peter hurts. People soon find that fighting Ed discourages. He doesn't really seem all that hurt by fighting, often quips when taking a fist to the gut. He can deal blows so nasty you feel the effects two weeks after.

The ones that fight him in groups, still willing to try, meet Peter's fists in a dark ally.

Still Edmund never needed Peter. Their bond is strange, sure, Peter copying his younger brothers' notes without remark, asking for his advice often and seriously.

But both know politics is Edmund's territory. At the start, no one messes with him due to his big brother, who always seems to hit harder than boys his age.

In time, Ed is feared more. Differently.

A fight with the oldest Pevensie brother ends in the infirmary, a fight with the youngest ends your career, ambition, prospects with the ladies.

Edmund knows what he can do. Knows his brother can do it too, but does not prefer it. He is known for his silver tongue, his brilliant mind. Peter, more so for his steel boots.

He plays chess, studies politics, does it right. Highest marks in his class, many extra-curriculars, a seemingly unbreakable bond with his sisters and brother, which he visits often everyone. No one can understand them when they are together, a strange lilt in their voices. Some people are little scared of him. He's a debate champion, talks rounds around anyone. Excellent chef, even though he only cooks for friends.

He's loyal to a fault, clever like the devil, and a perfect gentleman. In an archaic way. Ed is the kind of man to have a hankerchief in his pocket.

That's why no one unserious dates Susan or Lucy. They all know anything unserious ends badly.

Gradually, people start to like Edmund, even if they feared him at first. His smile is devilish, but also charming. Ed is free in his head, in his hands. Brilliant in many different ways, including fencing. There is a rumour in the halls, after a while. That Ed likes men too.

But no one talks.

Edmund goes into politics. He has a family that is in the top echolon of decison making, an analytical mind. Edmund has a talent for justice. In his presence, no one feels left out, everybody is heard. Many feel that with Ed as their PM they are finally represented. A noble man, even with his bloody knuckles, the unimpressive surname.

A statesman in everything. Fashion, vocabulary, manners.

But still he believes in Narnia, goes to see the spectre.

He is facing his brother in the train, happy, talking about Narnia when it crashes.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Idea - Let's Kill Sensei!

I just got reminded assassination classroom is a show that existed so im shamelessly cribbing the premise.

Midoriya Izuku didn't make it into the hero course. Without a quirk and only 10 rescue points - it just wasn't enough. Still, his score in the written exam saw him placed in gen ed - class 1C - with all of the other failed hero students. The classroom has an uncomfortable vibe - the recent and abrupt retirement of All Might after a villain attack on his home left him badly injured, coupled with their own failures, leave them all on edge.

To say they were expecting the man who walked into their classroom would be a mistake, but the gut wrenching fear that followed was almost expected.

All for One, the man they'd all seen nearly murder All Might 3 months ago, grinned - red eyes squinted in real mirth. "Hello, students. What on earth shall I teach you today?"

1C has 1 year to kill their homeroom teacher, or he takes over Japan. 1 year to kill a 200 year old villain with more quirks than UA has students. The student who kills AfO will be given 1 billion yen and moved to the course of their choosing.

What AfO hasn't told anyone is that he has a special gift for the student who manages to off him - if any of them do.

Featuring:

this is a deal with UA and the HPSC - UA wanted him with 3rd year heroics students while the HPSC insisted on gen ed - UA thinks the students have a chance, while the HPSC wants cannon fodder they can throw at AFO so they have extra time to plan.

the only person aware of this deal on UA staff other than Nezu is Present Mic - the man who was supposed to be gen ed's homeroom teacher. Nezu wanted to tell Eraserhead as well, but AfO argued that that was an unfair advantage to UA

gen!ed uraraka - without her rescue of Izuku, she didn't get enough points for the hero course

Dad for One - but Izuku doesn't recognize him (its been like 10 years, plus 'Hisashi Midoriya' had black hair). It's pretty clear Izuku is AfO's favourite student. but given that just means hes even tougher and like. Also a murderer. No one is particularly jealous.

Izuku, Shinso and Uraraka friendship - none of them really have anything to lose - either they are the ones to kill AfO or their lives are over.

[unluckilyimnot]

Hello^^can I please ask for headcannons with izana, mikey, baji and ran with reader who has eating disorder (like cassie from skins:( ) please don't do this if you're not comfortable

S/o with ed

Characters : Izana, Mikey, Ran

Type : angst, hurt to comfort

Words count : 0.8

It’s fine, I can write about it, it’s just the same as an old one I did : I speak as a girl who experienced it in a certain way (which is not as “hard” as Cassie) so I’ll do my best and I don’t mean any hurt it can cause. If you’re struggling with ed we can talk about it if you feel like it, but at least don’t hesitate to talk about it. You can get through it even if it’s hard (I did but I’m not cured at all)

I love you, take care of yourself and people around you ♡

Izana noticed quickly how you start to eat less and less. He cooks for you both the most and he can’t help but notice how a picky eater you’ve slowly become until eating barely enough to go on. As a small eater himself, he gets more and more worried when you start eating less than him. He knows you’ve never really been comfortable with your body and so, losing weight isn’t a bad idea if you feel like it’s what you need.

Yet, it got out of hand when he finally noticed your showing ribs even when you’re not stretching or breathing out. He sees them a little too much to his liking.

“You can’t go on like this.” he pointed out one day, during a meal. You haven’t touched your plate and you gulped at his words. “It’s not too much,” he added, pointing to your plate, “you’ll have to learn to eat again now.” he paused, waiting for your answer that is never coming. “It’s ok to be a small eater, but not to not eat at all.”

You clenched your jaw. As if you don’t know it well enough. As if you could just eat like that after all this time. His words hurt you more than anything, you thought he would understand.

“I know it’s hard, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Darling what do you think ? Have you seen me ? Isn’t it obvious enough ?” You looked at him, thinking about his habits a bit more and the way he looks before it hit you. Your eyes water, you were too focused on yourself to notice him, to even realize.

“We’re in this together.” he said with a smile.

Mikey doesn’t notice. All he noticed is that you’re not eating with him anymore. You go out with him but don’t ask for a bit anymore, nor do you take something for yourself. He doesn’t understand and sadly doesn’t know either how to handle it.

“Why aren’t you taking anything ?” he pouted, almost refusing to eat if you don’t.

“I’m simply not hungry Mikey, it’s fine, eat!”

“You’re never hungry lately !” It sounds more like a tantrum than anything else honestly and you can’t help but lie about it.

“I eat well enough at home, don’t worry. I’m just trying to lose weight lately.”

“What ? No !” you can hear him pouted. “I like you the way you are, I’ll be sad if you lose weight. It wouldn’t feel the same when I’ll hold you. I hate to think about it.”

He was so pure in his words, you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

“I’ll try not to lose too much then.” So you lied again, but seeing his smile was more than enough.

Ran is more than aware of what this is. You sleep too much. He does too, he knows that, but you always seem exhausted. Your skin is dry and almost gray. At first he checked your temperature for a few days, on those when it hit hard. Then he started to look at your activities, you still have to go to uni and stuff, maybe that’s what makes you this irritated. You don’t laugh much these days.

Finally, he started to look out for what you eat and he was met with the terrible truth that you’re not, and that’s probably what’s causing all of that. He has rough memories with that, and he wishes to not live them one more time.

“My love,” he purred into your ear, holding you from behind while you’re cutting some fruits.

“Yeah ?”

“Are you gonna eat more than that ?” You froze in his arms, not knowing what to say. “Would you share some ramen with me ? You don’t have to eat much, just something else other than an apple.”

“Ran I –”

“You know, it happened to my mom,” he cut you. He understands your side, but he wants you to understand his as well. “She was really sick because of this. And well, you know the end,” he snuggles his nose in your neck. “I don’t want this to happen to you.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s easier said than done and you don’t even wanna get better, not now, not now that it’s working and you’re close to your goal. Not now that –

“So, would you ?” but you can’t say no to him. And it’s not too much right. It’s just this time.

“Yeah, ok but just a few bites.”

“Right, I don’t want you to be sick.” he smiled against your skin. “Thank you. I love you”

I skipped baji sorry I hope it’s not your fav, I didn’t have an idea sniff. Mikey’s one is a little simple but young mikey is pure and rather simple minded at first.

[follows-the-bees]

I saw complaining how Ed and Stede don't treat Zheng right in the finale. And I want to walk through that journey and counter that.

First, Stede and Zheng are by themselves after escaping the cannonball. Zheng gets visibly upset, though turned away from Stede to hide her emotions, and he offers the only physical touch we see outside Ed to Zheng; tries to comfort her about what happened, her fleets getting blown up and then death of many pirates. Yes, it may be misplaced at the moment (and his words), Zheng doesn't want it, but he is offering what he has learned throughout the journey of the show: physical comfort.

Next, Zheng and Stede fight side by side on the beach. And when Stede sees Ed, Zheng tells him to go to him. They fight to get to each other and spend just enough time to get two quick kisses and about twenty words in; all together it's only about 30 seconds of time.

Ed has no idea who Zheng is, who knows if he even saw her before the moment she yells out to them again. He thought Stede was dead and was fighting the British "for Stede!" His priority is getting to tell Stede how he actually feels, that he loves him, the words barely escaping his lips before theirs even separate. This is a romantic comedy, so of course there is going to be a big declaration of love amid a near-death incident.

When Zheng calls for help, Ed asks who is that? (reminding us that he has no idea who Zheng is.) Stede explains and then together they run to go join and help Zheng.

We cut to the aftermath of the battle on the beach. The entire time the three of them are getting along, giggling and complimenting each other. What's the phrase: the best/lasting bonds are formed in battle? But anyway, no hate is shown here, only the trio getting along.

The three of them then fight to get the crew back, joking that it's pretty much a death sentence. But Spanish Jackie is a badass and already had the situation handled.

They all once again do another fuckery to escape: together. And Zheng and Auntie ask Ed (and Stede) to come with them on their hunt for Ricky. Friends may be a stretch at this point, but they are allies, appreciate each other's strengths and recognize they have a common enemy as well as journey in piracy. Zheng and Auntie sail away on the Revenge.with the rest of the crew. They are now the crew.

To counter the points I've seen about why Zheng isn't captain at the end, we gotta remember that Ed and Zheng are parallels. They are strong pirate captains who are forced into the old way of piracy: the toxicity. Both of their journeys are about being able to be their true selves, to allow their inner softness to emerge while keeping that badassness that made them the pirate captains they are. She's just lost her fleet, and I think it's perfectly in line with her journey to take a minute, something she could never do before to be among the crew, with Auntie, and he love interest(s?). Just like Ed is currently doing with Stede, taking a break from piracy and being a captain.

Zheng losing her fleet is heartbreaking, and it is supposed to be. And it's also a commentary on how Zheng's armada is just the other side of the coin of the British Empire. Her fleet is a totalitarian armada with the philosophy the old way of piracy: join us or die. It is what made Zheng a great Pirate Queen, but her journey is more than that, it's also about being a human, and as the show shows us time and time again, the traditional ways of piracy do not allow captains that humanity; it stifles it.

The end of Act || of the show is the destruction of the Golden Age of Piracy, which we see through Izzy's death, and the state of piracy and more specifically The Republic of Pirates.

I think Zheng's story is beautiful and I would have loved to see how it continued in season three.

[amuseoffyre]

Thinking again (thanks to the dead bird site) about Stede rebooting his worst day ever, aka the traumatic flashback he has multiple times across both season, only this time he gets the acceptance and approval he has craved for his entire life.

The Worst Day Ever is the day his father teaches him to kill, slaughtering a goose and spraying blood all over little Stede's face. He then grabs his son by the arm and drags him out to verbally excoriate him and tell him he is worthless and useless, "a soft-handed, weak-hearted, lily-livered little rich boy".

Faced with the prospect of killing for the first time sends Stede into a panic spiral including that flashback.

It's referenced again throughout the season, but especially in 1x02, loosely in the fever dream in 1x04 (he was scared of geese for Christ's sake!), and 1x09, when Stede is struggling with his guilt, self-recriminations and self-doubts and also being confronted directly by Chauncey.

But the most significant return of the Worst Day Ever flashback is immediately after Stede kills Ned Low, his first real deliberate kill.

Our man is very much Not Okay. The fact that this memory is front and centre shows exactly how much that day - that moment - impacted on him decades on.

He does his usual thing when he's upset - isolates and closes himself away somewhere else, shutting himself down and using the tried and true conceal-don't-feel approach.

The difference this time is that someone comes after him to offer him emotional support, comfort and care (much like Ed did on the beach in 2x09, and this time, more kisses as well). So for a little while at least, Stede is distracted and wrapped up in Ed's affections and can put Ned's death to the back of his mind.

But the trouble arises when they get to the Republic and suddenly, for the first time in his life, he's being praised and celebrated. And, of all the people for him to gravitate towards, he ends up choosing to spend his time in the company of Blood-bucket Bill, an older man in a blood-smeared leather apron, who keeps telling him how cool and amazing he is.

And, after Stede kills in front of him, we get another twisted up mirror of the Worst Day Ever. Instead of his dad dragging him out to humiliate him, Bloodbucket Bill grabs him by the arm and hauls him up and tells everyone "the Gentleman Pirate is the fuckin' dude"

And as the episode continues and Ed leaves, Stede retreats to the bar with Bill, trying to take comfort from the man who has been telling him how good he is all day.

"At least you like me for me," he says to the deranged blood-smeared groupie. "Bonnet, I'd fuckin' die for you" Bill tells him and you can see that it isn't bringing the assurance Stede thought it would.

And to ice the cake, even when he's holding onto those last little vestiges of "yay I'm cool", Izzy shows up and dismisses Bill with three words and Bill doesn't even try to stay. "I'll fuckin' die for you" becomes "yes, right away, Mr Hands".

And the framing. omg the framing in the scene. It is, once again, a deliberate and pointed call back to Stede's Worst Day Ever. Once again, an older man is looming over him and Stede is just waiting to have emotional strips ripped out of him again ("have you come for your victory lap?"). This is the first and only time I can think of Izzy looking taller than anyone, especially Stede.

But unlike the horrendous abuse he got from his father, the abuse Stede expects yet again, the same old patterns happening over and over, Izzy changes the script and tells him "I think you're good for him. You balance each other out".

And if not for a group of his crew - his family - choosing to leave him as well, it might have been enough. But when he's already fragile over the loss of one person precious to him and reassured that he's good for people after all, the threat of losing more of his beloved people pushes him straight back into the reckless behaviour that has filled the rest of his day.

(brb wailing into a pillow that we won't get to see him have a chance to process any of this stuff)

[blakbonnet]

HAPPY FOX DAY TO ALL THOSE WHO CELEBRATE! Today's a special special AOTW because our featured author this week is best beloved @asneakyfox 🦊

Fox, I genuinely think you're one of the greatest fandom philosophers of our times, and what you write is so much more than regular old meta. Because we're all playing in the sandbox here and while a lot of us lose sight of canon sometimes, you have all four feet firmly planted in the lovely source material we've been provided with. And you don't stop there, you try to actively engage with the community, especially making sure you are keeping an eye on all the differing opinions. I feel like this is why your thesis resonates so thoroughly with different people--it's not trying to prove a point, it's very 'holmes saw a dead body and ejaculated'. You are just so smart that you make the rest of us smarter, but it's never intimidating to talk to you, and I love love love that I get to read your stories and your thoughts because of this show and this fandom.

Fox, brilliant as ever, agreed to answer a few questions for me:

What's your meta writing process like? Do you think in disparate strings about scenes and then write them down as they come to you OR is it usually a conversation or a thought that eats at you until you sit down and untangle it?

generally i'll be thinking about something, usually because i saw another post (or had a conversation about the show on discord; special shoutout to the crew on @figmentof and @scarrletmoon's servers, and especially to @glamaphonic, anything i've ever said you thought was really insightful probably came out of a dm conversation with glam) and some part of a post about it will start writing itself in my head, and unfortunately once that process starts the only way to stop it is to write it down.

even more unfortunately i never know whether it's all going to flow out easily into a coherent essay right away, or if it'll be one of those things where i write two really good paragraphs that ought to go in the middle section of a post that takes a while to figure out how to structure; i just have to start and see where it goes. some meta i've written that got lots of notes was written all at once the moment the thought struck me and posted as soon as it was done, but there's also a few that have been sitting in drafts for months as i keep rewriting the same section without being sure where it goes next.

Favourite themes or characterisations you like to explore while meta writing? (things like Ed's fisherman era and what led to it, etc)

i guess if there's a big theme i keep coming back to it's ed's character arc over the course of the show, his relationship with violence and how it affects his perception of himself and how he has to grow through that to be ready to commit to his relationship with stede. one of the very first things i ever said about the show on tumblr, way back in summer 2022, was that ed's absolute deepest fear was that he is fundamentally unlovable, so it was really a delight to see s2 dive so hard into addressing the exact issues i'd been looking at so explicitly. and of course there's also a lot of fandom racism that plays into some takes that go around about ed, and i think it's really important to call that out and push back against those takes.

i feel like it would be kind of silly to not call out izzy here too. izzy plays an absolutely crucial role in highlighting those exact issues in ed's arc, and i honestly just think the way their whole relationship develops in canon is deliciously meaty and a lot of fandom takes seem determined to flatten it out into something much more boring. so it's important to me to try to highlight the ways you don't have to pretend izzy was a secret good guy all along to appreciate the role he plays in the story.

finally i guess this has only developed over the last several months but i guess one of my trademarks now is speculation about what got deleted from s2. i've always been good at the game of watching a movie and guessing at scenes that were cut or changed, and my spider-sense for that was going off like crazy as i watched s2, and i didn't want to get too speculative at first, but as information has actually come out from samba and vico and other sources, a lot of it's lined up with what i thought. and i'm really interested in how the ofmd writers' room approached storybreaking, so it's worth it to me to try to understand this.

Whose head is it easier to get into - Ed or Stede? Why?

i guess i already answered this! i love them both a lot, and i'd been writing meta for a good while before i consciously realized i'd written a LOT more about ed than about stede, and the ed posts tend to be individually longer than the stede ones too. i think some of this is because ed's arc reads super clearly to me while stede, despite being the main character, gets an arc that's a lot more subtle and internal in some ways (and also i do think suffered significantly from the cuts to the second half of s2). and some of it's because people can be Wrong On The Internet about ed in ways i feel the need to push back against more than about stede. but some of it's just, you know, vibe.

it's always interesting to me that nearly all prolific fic authors in this fandom have a clear very strong preference for which POV they prefer - i don't think all fandoms are like that - but i guess my own alignment is obvious.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

the obvious answer here is the one actual fic i have written for this fandom, "Nothing Could Touch It" which came out of thinking about how there's some post-s2 fic about ed reckoning with this relationship with izzy that i really like but none of it quite got at how i feel like canon's framing it. (don't worry it's not all about izzy! stede's there and there's a bunch of cuddling!)

as far as meta goes though i would call out this as the one i'm probably proudest of, this is the one where i most completely tried to lay out how i saw the show framing ed's relationship with violence during the s1 hiatus, and i think after s2 it holds up pretty well. but also since i was just talking about how i don't say enough about stede, this is the post where i tried to lay out the stuff i really admire in stede as a character.

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

i've got a bunch of verbal tics i overuse but the one i'm self-conscious about in meta lately is "reading against the text," which sounds so pretentious and lit-crit i really wish there were another good phrase for it. but i think it's really useful as a way to clarify that sometimes i'm saying a particular take is clearly not how the narrative of ofmd is framing something but that doesn't mean you need to stop interpreting it that way. reading against the text is really fun and i recommend it sometimes! but you'll have more fun if you're aware that's what you're doing!

If you were writing his arc, keeping in mind that he stays largely antagonistic in line with the show, how would you have resolved the Izzy problem: would you have made the same decisions the writers made and written a redemption by death OR do you think that the spirit of the show specifically demands Izzy get a good guy (or not as bad a guy) ending where we see his muppetification

one of the predictions i was most confident of before s2 was that if izzy were redeemed, he wouldn't be able to remain in the cast as a good-guy crew muppet afterward. (for this reason i thought the likeliest possibility was a slower redemption arc that wouldn't fully complete till the end of s3.) several times i tried to game out what role a fully redeemed izzy could possibly continue to play within this story, or what personality traits that he showed in s1 he could even hang onto after a full redemption, and i couldn't come up with anything that felt plausible. not "loyalty to your captain," because his devotion to blackbeard was clearly toxic at the root and would need to be purged entirely before it could be replaced by anything healthier; not yelling at people to stop having so much fun and work harder, because that could work in a different story but would run directly counter to the core themes of ofmd - so what's left? i went looking at popular izzy redemption fic that tried to address that question, and some of it came up with answers that worked in the context of a fic focused mostly on izzy, but it was never anything that could possibly work in a tv show that already had established themes and would continue to focus primarily on other characters. and izzy wouldn't be able to just fade into the background with the other muppets after all the focus on him a believable redemption arc would require. so i knew once he was redeemed he'd be done as a character one way or another.

and s2 i think bore that out, honestly in a much more obvious way than i expected - over the course of izzy's s2 arc he's basically divested of all his s1 personality traits until all that's really left by the end is saying twat all the time, and Guy Who Says Twat is not a role the story's going to particularly need going forward. to keep him around after that you'd need to give him enough new traits that he'd be for all practical purposes a new character anyway.

i do sometimes wonder about a world where izzy's s2 arc saw him be offered a clear chance at redemption and choose to reject it and get worse instead. i kind of missed antagonist izzy by the end, and i wonder if a lot of people who'd originally wanted a redemption for him wouldn't have been happier with that even if they didn't realize it - a descent into full villainy would have kept izzy and his relationships with both ed and stede more central to the plot right up till the end, and in particular the sexual aspect of his feelings for ed could have stayed very directly relevant, where the redemption arc necessitated resolving that very firmly to clear it out of the way as early as possible in s2. i never agreed that ofmd's themes necessarily meant redemption for izzy was inevitable - ted lasso was much more overtly a show about redemption than ofmd right from the start, and even ted lasso let at least one of its antagonists make it all the way to the end as an unrepentant scumbag. if there's anything that meant izzy really had to be redeemed imo it wasn't the overall spirit of the show so much as izzy's role in ed's arc - before anything else izzy's narrative role was always to be a walking symbol of the part of ed that fears vulnerability and holds him back from committing himself to love, and for ed and stede to be happily together by the end of s2, ed had to get to a place where he could see that part of himself as something he no longer needs in his life but also doesn't hate anymore. nothing could have symbolized that like having ed embrace izzy as he dies granting ed permission to just be himself.

Why OFMD 🥹

you know, i could say a lot here about how i think ofmd is genuinely incredibly well-written in some ways that are really unusual on american tv. season 1 in particular is just incredibly tight and elegantly plotted, and s2 is messier but that just makes it all the more interesting to look at the constraints they were under that led to that. my day job's in narrative and i really do professionally admire ofmd a lot, which is one of the reasons i tend to think about creator intent more than some people do when i'm writing meta - death of the author is a super valid perspective but personally i'm really interested in trying to figure out why the writers made the choices they made and what i can learn from that for when i'm in their position.

so all of that's true. but also we all know it's kind of beside the point here, this is a hyperfixation, it's not rational. i can tell you i watched the first nine episodes of our flag means death and liked it a lot but in what i would describe as a basically normal kind of way, and then i watched the tenth and at some point during that episode a rat inside my brain hit the dopamine spigot with a wrench and now it won't turn off so here we are.

aaaand if you've made it to this point, please join us in evil ganging up on fox with love by sending a lovely letter to them over on @ofmdlovelyletters who was also kind enough to make this header <3

[bougiebutchbinch]

horrid little brainworm

Frenchie is still green at the start of the Kraken era.

He isn't, by the end.

But back then, when it all begins - when he isn't used to the sting of kohl-mixed sweat dripping into his eyes - he makes mistakes. Lots of them. Simple little things - fluffing a knot in the rigging that has their sail unfurling midway through the dogwatch, goods left unstowed to roll with the list of their ship.

Most of the time, Izzy yells himself hoarse for five minutes, then shows Frenchie how to fix it, interspersing his lecture with expletives. Whatever. That's fine. Let the little man scream - he's not the scariest thing aboard anymore.

Never was, really.

But then Blackbeard (Ed? The Kraken?) stomps out of his cabin, hair a black thundercloud, and snarls 'which one of you men is responsible for that fucking mop', pointing to some cleaning equipment Frenchie forgot to pack away.

And everything goes still, as if they're becalmed.

[CW: whipping, abuse, non-explicit mentions of Frenchie's past locked-box traumas]

No one says Frenchie's name - not even Izzy. He just ducks his chin and refuses to look his captain in the eye. But the eyes of every other crewmember jump guiltily to Frenchie, at least once - and Blackbeard is too smart to miss such a tell.

"A ship needs discipline," he says. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Iz?"

"I'll attend to it," says Izzy, voice scratchier than ever. Frenchie knows this is a bad fucking situation - memories battering against the inside of his locked box, trying to get out - but somehow he can't feel fear. Can't really feel anything.

"With the cat," says Blackbeard. "Give the culprit fifteen. Really make the lesson stick."

Ah. There's the fear.

Frenchie's breath stifles itself halfway up his throat, as screams sneak through the keyhole of his box, along with the crack of a whip -

No. No, no, no. He can't. Not again, he can't -

Izzy glances up. Frenchie expects him to grin, all vindictive sadism - but whatever he sees on Frenchie's face has his mouth pulling into a tight line.

"Yes, sir," he says, though Frenchie barely hears over the dull roar of his heart.

He casts his gaze about, looking for an escape. Over the side? They're too far from land, but fuck, if it isn't tempting -

Jim fondles their knives, glaring mutinously at Blackbeard's back as he returns to his cabin. They don't spring after him (though Frenchie selfishly wishes they would). They're well aware - as is everyone - that right now, with Blackbeard black-eyed and bloodthirsty, they'd lose.

Izzy swallows. Shuts his eyes. Then calls for Fang to fetch the cat.

Frenchie loses time then. Scarcely a blink passes before Fang reappears above the deck, the strings of the knotted whip scraping the floor like the tentacles of a shrunken sea-monster.

They're flaky with rusty residue. Old, dried blood.

Frenchie's fingers twitch in the chords of the first song his Ma taught him. No rituals or superstitions will save him. Nothing will. Because his old crew are marooned, almost certainly dead, and his new crew are - with the exception of Fang and Jim and Ivan - fucking monsters.

He's going to be whipped (again). He's going to shred open all those old scars. The box is going to open, and -

Oh, God. Oh God. Fifteen lashes is survivable (Frenchie knows, he knows) but he's still not sure if anything of himself will emerge from the other side.

He's still frozen, staring at the whip held in Fang's big hands, flat out like he's presenting it to Izzy. Only... Izzy doesn't take it.

No, Izzy moves to stand in front of the mast. Walking stiff, with a bit of a limp. While Frenchie's reeling, struggling to process what's happening, he yanks off his shirt. And - fuck, his back is almost as ugly a sight as Frenchie knows his own would be, if he could bear to study it in a mirror.

A few of the crew draw shocked inhales. Most don't look surprised.

Frenchie is one of the latter group. Sound travels, on a ship.

"Um," says Fang, cat dangling limp. "Boss?"

Izzy grabs the hawsers wrapped around the mainmast. Heaves a deep breath. Rests his forehead against the wood.

"You heard the captain," he croaks. "Fifteen lashes."

Fang's eyes are moist - though they are more often than not, nowadays. "Boss - "

"The captain wants the culprit disciplined," Izzy says. His muscles flex beneath their coating of scars. Bracing himself, Frenchie's mind supplies. For the oncoming pain. Not that any amount of tensing is ever enough. "First mate's responsible for maintaining a tidy deck."

This turn of events finally settles into Frenchie's bones. The whip's not for him, thank everything. His key slides gratefully into the lock of his box and turns, ensuring it's shut tight.

Still, sickness churns in his guts. Last week, sleep eluded him. He'd intended to skulk above decks and breathe the sea air to clear his head. He never made it - because who should stagger out of the captain's cabin, so dead-eyed he didn't even notice Frenchie lurking in the shadows of the galley door, but the Revenge's thrice-cursed angry gremlin of a first mate?

Izzy hadn't looked much like a gremlin then, though. Doesn't now, either. Just looks. Tired. And old. And bruised to shit beneath his shirt, and not all of those lash marks are old, weathered scars, and -

Frenchie's fingers twitch more rapidly, pressing through their imaginary chord sequence.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -

"Fifteen lashes," Izzy reminds Fang. "If you can't do it, anyone else is free to step up. I'm sure there'll be fucking volunteers."

Frenchie eyes Jim. They and Izzy aren't exactly friends - not when Frenchie has heard them mumble a word that sounds horrifically close to 'Oluwande' in their sleep.

But Jim stays right where they are. Hand on the hilt of a knife. Ivan emulates, and, well, Frenchie's feet have damn near put down roots. He couldn't move from this spot if he was ordered to.

Fang's tears well over, and his hand shakes on the whip handle to the point where Frenchie thinks he might drop it.

A clash from the great cabin has them all jumping - all but Izzy, who rests his cheek on the mast like it's a particularly splintery pillow, eyes drifting shut. Blackbeard barges back out, sousing the air with body odour and smoke and self-hatred and whatever the fuck else he's been marinating in.

"What's the fucking wait?" he demands. "I expected way more screams by now." He halts, frowning at the sight of Izzy, stood where Frenchie ought to be (because fuck, he shouldn't have left that mop and bucket out; how many times has Izzy told him - ). For a moment, the harsh line of his brows crumples on itself in something that could be mistaken for regret. But then that dark sneer crawls onto his lips, the one with which the whole crew is becoming familiar. "Can't pick who gets the privilege, eh? Well, lucky for the lot of you, that's what a captain's for."

He stalks forwards, feline-graceful. Frenchie scuttles from his path. When Blackbeard snatches the whip from Fang (not seeming to notice his whimper, his flinch) Frenchie fully anticipates that he'll turn on Izzy, not him.

He certainly doesn't expect Blackbeard to smile, cold and white as a toenail moon, and thrust the whip towards him, hilt first.

"Oh, no." Frenchie raises both hands in surrender. "No, no, no. I couldn't. Awful with a whip, me. Wouldn't, um..." There's the noise of it again, slithering out through the keyhole of his box. The swish. The crack. The scream. "Wouldn't be able to strike hard enough," he stutters. "No upper body strength, yeah."

Blackbeard doesn't approach Frenchie. Just keeps the whip held out towards him, like the accusative finger of a god.

"You give him fifteen," he says, gently. "And make each one count. Or I give him fifty."

Against the mast, Izzy makes a sound - not quite a whimper. Worse; it's far too much like relief. His hands don't shake, but only because they grip the hawser tight as rigor mortis.

Fifty can kill. Has killed before. Frenchie's seen it.

But Blackbeard doesn't want Izzy dead, right? Who would he torture then?

Blackbeard's blank, lifeless eyes pour into Frenchie's.

Who indeed?

Fuck. Frenchie swallows dry. He tells himself it's for self-preservation that he unsticks his boots from the deck and shuffles forth to take the whip. Not for Izzy. Not like he likes the angry little prick. Man's vicious as a cat and thrice as cursed.

Maybe, if Frenchie tells himself that, it'll make this memory easier to lock away with all the rest.

"Ready?" he asks Izzy, softer than he intends. Izzy twists over his scarred shoulder. He looks at Frenchie - really looks at him - for what feels like the first time. Not even glancing to his left, where the Kraken lurks.

Frenchie can't decipher his expression. Pity, for whatever made him offer himself up in Frenchie's place? Frustration, that Frenchie prevented Blackbeard from whipping him into the grave? Misery and fear - no, that's far too sane for a guy like Izzy.

Izzy turns back to the mast.

"Give me your worst," he says.

Frenchie breathes in, breathes out, and obeys.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 9

Hello and welcome back to this wonderful fic! Like I've said before having a set schedule for each story got hard and I've resorted to posting on vibes alone.

This week's vibes are all over the place because of the pain in my elbow. It's getting better but it's taking every ounce of self-control and self-preservation I have not write as many words a day as I can to make up for lost time and slowly work my way back up to my old schedule so I don't re-injure it.

But as I've said, if you want to see a specific work more often, drop me an ask and I'll see what I can do.

Here we have Eddie being a sweetheart and Steve and his friends being dorks.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

NDAs were such a large part of Steve’s life he couldn’t remember a time he didn’t have them. For everything.

Even producers had to sign them before they could even breathe in the direction of The Fallen in the recording studio.

It was an exhausting but necessary part of his life. Just like the locked room in his apartment.

Shane and Spence had done an amazing job with Steve’s little notebook of song material. And shocker, only two of them were love songs. Most of the rest of the songs were about trying to survive in a world you had to hide.

He knew that a lot of critics would tell them to lose the masks if it bothered them so much, but at this point Steve didn’t care. They were working on their third album in three years and he was fucking tired.

“Again, from the top,” the producer said into the com. “Abbadon you got a little pitchy on the second line. Watch it. Astraeus, you’re coming in too early. It’s duh-ba-ba-dun and then you come in. You’re coming in on the first ba.”

Steve and Shane nodded and they began again.

Steve’s brain thought it was going to melt out of his ears. He had a test for his certification after today’s session in the studio and he was sure all the information would have leaked out by then.

But apparently Steve’s brain went on autopilot taking the test, and not only did he pass, he passed with full marks.

Spence clapped Steve shoulder. “Hey, man if this whole rockstar gig ever falls apart, you should come be an EMT with me.”

Steve grinned back. That wasn’t a bad idea actually. With his lifeguard training and his affinity for thinking well under pressure, it really was the ideal job.

“I might just take you up on that.”

They broke up for the day and as Steve was putting away his guitar his phone rang.

“Hey, Eds,” he greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie replied. “How did your test go?”

“I aced it!” Steve said, bouncing on the tips of his toes in excitement.

“What?” Eddie cried. “Baby, that’s so amazing! We’ll definitely go out tonight and celebrate. But that’s not the reason I’m calling.”

“Oh?” Steve asked.

“How far are you guys into the album?” Eddie asked, hesitantly.

Steve frowned for a moment. He looked over at Spence and Hopper. They had all had a really rough session today and it had become almost grueling in a way that the other two albums never felt.

“Not as far as we’d like,” Steve admitted. If anyone knew what they were going through it was Eddie.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Eddie commiserated. “Would it be better to continue at it or take break touring?”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. It would be nice to actually take time with the album and not push it out as quickly as possible.

“A break for sure,” Steve murmured. “We’re on our third album in three years, and even though we just got back from a tour, it was less exhausting than being in the studio right now.”

Eddie was silent for a moment. “Have you thought about changing the studio you’re working in? Sometimes a change of scenery can help.”

“I guess we could try,” Steve muttered. “I just didn’t think we had that kind of pull with the record label yet. I’ll call Robin later and see what she can do.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “So the reason I was asking, babe, is that they have given us a choice of two sets of dates. One that would start at the beginning of the new year and one that would start next summer. And since we’re taking you with us, our management is going to coordinate with yours.”

“Oh.”

Steve wasn’t sure which he would prefer, if he was being honest. “Can I talk to my boys and get back to you on that?”

“Sure thing, Stevie,” Eddie said fondly. “You can tell all about what you guys decided when we meet up for drinks tonight, how does that sound?”

Steve let out a little sigh of relief. “Yeah, that sounds great, Eds. Text me the details.”

“You’ve got it!” Eddie said and then they both said their goodbyes and hang up.

More work, Steve thought mournfully. He didn’t want more work. He was tired and miserable and he should have been happy. The record was liking the album so far, they were about to go on tour with the biggest metal band in the world, he was dating Eddie. Why wasn’t he happy?

He put his head in his hands and forced himself to breathe. He knew that a lot of what he was feeling was being forced to wait when he didn’t want to.

That even if he was out as Abbadon, he couldn’t be out with Eddie. Both of their labels would have literal bitch fits. They could be out to their friends, but as far as the media went, that was off limits. Being bisexual or gay was better now, but it could still tank their careers if they came out with actual same sex partners. Steve’s career especially, new as it was.

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. This whole masked identities shit was tough. He didn’t know how those other bands could handle it. Maybe the difference was that their families knew. He honestly didn’t know.

But he had chosen to walk down this road. When they first started playing and getting turned away by how they looked, they chose to not change themselves, but to become someone else. And it worked and he really couldn’t argue with the results.

Steve loved his job. He loved that he got be in a band with his best friends and that his platonic soulmate was their manager. He loved getting out there on stage and singing his heart out. But it was hard sometimes.

He pulled out his phone and called Robin. “Hey, what are the label’s requirement on getting this album done? Like does it have to be at this studio with this producer?”

“One sec,” Robin said, pulling it up on her computer. She scanned the document complete with searching for key words. “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s up?”

“You know how we’ve hit a wall in the studio?” Steve asked around chewing on his thumb.

She scoffed. Of course she knew. “And you’re thinking a change of venue might help or at the very least a new producer?”

“Yeah...” Steve said. “Eddie suggested it, but I wasn’t sure if we had that kind of clout with the record label.”

Robin was quiet on the line, but Steve could feel the cogs in her head turn. “I’ll get on it.”

“Thanks,” he said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Did Eddie’s label send over the tour dates?”

“Let’s see...” she hummed. “Yup! I’m reading through them... and I’m guessing you to talk with everyone before making a final decision?”

“Right in one,” Steve said. “Preferably with whether or not we get someone else in to produce.”

“You’ve got it, babe,” she said. “Does this have a deadline?”

“Eddie said he would like to know by tonight,” he said, “but I can tell him we’re still working things out and that’s we’ll get back to him.”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I’ll still talk to the boys and at least get a feel for what they’re thinking even if we can’t shift producers or studio.”

“Sounds good,” Robin said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I learn anything.”

He hung up and pulled up the group chat and messaged his friends to meet at his place. He had stuff he wanted to talk with them regarding upcoming tour dates.

Simon and Shane texted back immediately. Spence had left them on read for about fifteen minutes before responding with a question about how long they would be.

And then the ribbing began.

-Oohh...you with that girl?- Shane

-He totally is!!- Simon

-Pics or it didn’t happen- Steve

-Pics!- Simon

-Yeah, man, is she cute?- Shane

-Why do you care, Shane? You’re gay- Spence

-Because like a flower I can appreciate the feminine form, even if I don’t want to fuck it- Shane

Pic comes in of Spence on his couch with a gorgeous dark-skinned woman with soulful eyes and long black hair.

-Meet Nadia

-Lucky guy!- Simon

-That’s quite the flower :P- Shane

-Yeahhh...I’m sorry, man, as much as I would like to let you stay with your lady love, we really need to talk. Business. :(

-I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. -Spence

-lol! You keep telling yourself that and maybe one day I’ll believe you- Shane

-GASP! Spence doesn’t love us! :’(- Simon

-Damn it. Fine I love you all- Spence

-Simon uses sad emoji against Spence, it’s super effective! (pokeball emoji)- Steve

-Meet at my place as soon as you can- Steve

There was the usual chorus of affirmative responses and Steve set down his phone.

He looked up at the ceiling as he huffed out a sigh. His friends were on the way, Robin was trying to fix the problem with them hitting a brick wall making their album, and Eddie was supportive.

It helped that Spence was dating now, too. They could commiserate about their love lives.

Simon hated that while he could get girls as Asmodeus but not as himself he swore off dating until he found someone who liked him for him and not just because he was a rock god.

Shane just liked having fun. Wherever that took him. Usually gay bars with lots of booze and dancing.

They weren’t “rich and famous” enough for the wild parties and shit. At least not yet. They were getting a lot traction with their second major album though so that was probably going to change fast.

Steve just glad that he would have Eddie and Robin holding his hand though this.

He looked over at the contract on his table and sighed. Like Spence, he really did love his job. And he knew that there were hundreds of bands wishing to be in his shoes.

He could do this.

He was, after all Abbadon, lead singer of The Fallen and he knew how to do this shit.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch

@bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners

@thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade

@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

[ataliagold]

the edges of your soul i haven't seen yet

This came from wanting to expand on the ideas in 'you're the only one who knows, you slow it down', but consider this a new fic with very similar ideas. I'm not sure how long it'll be yet, but here's the first chapter. Title from Forever by Noah Kahan.

Also on AO3 here.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T (currently)

Tags: modern au, no upside down, autistic steve, steve has a service cat, eddie and steve fall in love while working at a farmers' market, stimming, autistic meltdowns/shutdowns/stimming, platonic soulmates steve and robin, eddie is a sweetheart

Summary: Eddie's reluctantly helping Wayne with his produce stall at the farmers' market. He's resigned himself to a boring summer - until a new face shows up at the market to run a baking stall with his best friend. Steve is...odd, like no one Eddie's ever met.

And it doesn't take him long to fall head over heels for him.

___

Chapter One

Eddie isn’t particularly enjoying his morning.

Not yet, anyway.

He grunts as Wayne loads another box into his arms, adjusting his footing under the weight of the produce, of apples and pears, oranges and grapefruit, of avocados and sweet potatoes and carrots and lettuces…

“Right, that’s the last of it,” Wayne announces, dusting his hands off and locking his pick-up behind him.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie grumbles. He makes his way towards their stall, cursing as he trips a little and loses an apple or two. There’s sweat dripping down his spine already, this summer proving to be particularly hot and humid even at eight fucking thirty a.m.

But Eddie had promised Wayne he’d help him out at the farmers’ market this weekend, since he had nothing better on, since his friends had actually gotten in to colleges and were busy getting ready to move away, since Eddie had been sort of…left behind, with nothing to do but trail after his uncle like a bad smell.

He does as he’s told. Sets the boxes down where Wayne points, helps him set the produce out, puts the little cardboard signs with the prices scribbled on them at the front of the table.

Once that’s finished, Eddie sinks into a plastic camp chair with a sigh, reaching for an apple and loudly crunching into it, ignoring the half-hearted glare Wayne shoots back at him.

There’s only a couple of people here this early – mostly other stall-holders setting up, the occasional dog-walker taking a non-committal glance at the wares, an old lady or two with purses clutched close to their middles.

It’s gonna be a boring morning.

Eddie chucks his headphones on, cranks the music as loud as he’ll get away with, and settles in for several hours of withering in the heat and making sure no one pockets an extra pear.

Eventually, his gaze wanders.

Wayne’s talking to a customer, something about the growing season for oranges or some shit, when Eddie claps eyes on the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

He sits up. Swallows, stares because he can’t help it.

There’s a literal god unfolding a table not far away, placing a thin yellow blanket on the top, smoothing it out just so. He’s about Eddie’s age, all olive skin dotted with moles and broad shoulders and golden hair that’s fallen effortlessly into place. Glasses frame his face, his perfect fucking face with those pink lips and square jaw, and even from here Eddie can see the look of concentration on the boy’s face, his brows slightly drawn together as he tucks the blanket in at the corners, as he readjusts several times to make sure it’s completely straight on the table.

A light smack to his knee jolts Eddie out of his daze, forces him to drag his gaze reluctantly back to Wayne. Wayne, who’s frowning at him, shaking his head.

“Turn your damn music down, Eds,” Wayne huffs, “need ya to dig me out some change.”

Eddie doesn’t argue. Lets Wayne believe he was distracted by his music, not by the boy several stalls over.

He rifles through their tin of change, picking out a few quarters, and then sneaks a look back again.

The boy’s bent over the table, light-wash jeans pulled tight across his ass, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s openly gaping at the guy right now but he can’t fucking help it. It’s a baking stall, by the look of the cupcakes and cookies the boy’s currently placing out on the table, tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth as he works. The boy pauses for a moment in front of the table, as if assessing his wares for anything out of place.

“Eddie!” Wayne says again, exasperated. “You got that change, or what?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut. Turns back to Wayne, hands him the change which his uncle takes with a shake of his head. Once the customer has left with a paper bag of carrots in hand, Eddie makes a decision.

“You want a cookie?” he asks Wayne.

“Huh?”

“A cookie,” Eddie repeats, slowly.

Wayne looks down at his watch. “It’s barely gone nine a.m.”

“So? I’m getting one. You want one, or not?”

After Wayne declines, Eddie heads off with a shrug, making straight for the tall boy still frowning down at his baking, thumb drawing anxious patterns on his index finger.

As he approaches, Eddie’s words die in his throat.

He’d planned on flirting. Was ready to try and charm the pants right off this boy, as quickly as he decently could.

But the closer he got, the more the butterflies began in his stomach.

Because somehow, he only got more attractive with every step Eddie took.

And yeah, he wasn’t usually one for ironed polos and blue jeans and bright white Nikes that looked meticulously clean, but Eddie’s cheeks were reddening and his heart was pounding when he reached the stall.

The boy didn’t turn around at his approach.

Not until Eddie clears his throat a little awkwardly, hand brushing over the back of his neck. Sheepish. Shy. Two things he’s never been in his whole fucking life.

“Uh…hi,” Eddie starts.

The boy’s eyes widen behind his glasses. His hands grasp each other, almost frantically, and his gaze darts from Eddie, to the table, to somewhere off behind him. He opens his mouth briefly, but closes it again without speaking.

Huh, Eddie thinks.

Well, maybe the guy’s even shyer than he is right now.

Eddie tries again. “I saw you setting up, looks good. The…the baking, I mean, not…not you setting up. Well, that too, honestly, but I thought…” Eddie trails off, internally kicking himself.

You fucking idiot, Munson.

The boy blinks at him.

When he still doesn’t speak, Eddie shifts from foot to foot a little, then finally steps over to the table.

“Well, I’m just gonna have a look, if that’s ok?”

The boy nods. Quick, his head jerking a little, the movement stiff and awkward.

Eddie feels his eyes boring into his back as he scans the table. There’s cupcakes with piped-on frosting in several different patterns but all of them yellow, matching the boy’s soft polo that was clinging unfairly to his chest. There’s slices of brownies, cookies of varying flavours, apple pie and cinnamon donuts and red velvet cake and shortbread…

“Did you make all of these?” Eddie asks, a little in awe.

Polo-boy nods, not meeting Eddie’s eye. He’s wringing his hands, clenching his jaw, repeatedly glancing over Eddie’s shoulder as if he’s looking for someone.

“Shit, that’s…there’s so much different stuff here, how long did it take you?” And Eddie’s genuinely curious, he’s not just talking for the sake of it, for the purpose of squeezing at least a word or two out of this guy. Because everything on that table was meticulous – the cookies perfectly round, the pie sliced into completely even pieces, not even a stray dribble of batter or frosting on the cupcake liners (also yellow, Eddie noted) – there’s so much effort gone into this, and Eddie’s impressed.

The boy wants to speak, it looks like.

Eddie waits while he opens and closes his mouth a few times, flapping a hand in front of him.

“Hey Stevie, everything ok?”

A girl wanders over with several cake boxes in her arms, glancing between Stevie and Eddie. She’s got short hair, a dusting of freckles across her face, and a yellow top on to match the boy in front of Eddie, who relaxes a tiny bit as soon as he sees her.

He nods, but doesn’t stop clenching his hands together over his stomach.

The girl puts the boxes down, and steps over to the boy.

“Hey, it’s ok,” she murmurs softly, “we talked about this, remember? You’re fine, just…take a breath, ok?”

Eddie turns away from them. Senses this isn’t a conversation meant for him, and brings his attention back to the table, pretending he’s just…really interested in cupcakes all of a sudden. But he’s only a couple of feet away, and the girl doesn’t seem to care that he can overhear.

“Has he asked to buy something?”

“No.”

It’s the first time Eddie’s heard the boy speak. His voice is quiet, not much above a whisper, but Eddie wants to hear more of it.

“He wanted to know how long it took me,” the boy continues, “to make everything.”

“Ok…so did you answer?”

“No. Wanted to.”

“Your words get stuck?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, that’s ok. Here, I’ll help you.”

“Robin -”

“You gotta try, Stevie. You can do it, come on.”

Eddie turns back to them as Robin tows the guy – Stevie? – over by his sleeve.

“Hi.” She grins at Eddie, and the boy stands slightly behind her, looking down at his feet. “This is Steve, I’m Robin. It’s our first time at a market and Steve’s kinda nervous. Can we help you with anything?”

Eddie’s eyes flick back to Steve, to his red cheeks and long eyelashes. His heart thuds in his chest.

He smiles at them. “I’m Eddie, my uncles got a stall just over there.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “We sell fruit and shit. This is really your first day? Your set up is…really nice.”

“Thanks.” Robin beams even wider. “It was all Steve really, he did all the baking too, I’m just here to help out.”

Eddie nods slowly. Steve’s still avoiding his eye, no matter how much Eddie tries to catch it.

Swallowing his disappointment, he points to one of the chocolate chip cookies on the table.

“Can I get one of those, please?”

Robin nods briskly. “Steve, can you sort that?” She nudges him slightly in the side, and Steve springs into action, seemingly happy to give his hands something to do as he grabs a paper bag and looks around the table for something.

He freezes suddenly.

Robin’s back at his side immediately.

“Everything ok?” she asks quietly.

He shakes his head, flaps a hand at the table, face drawn tight in a frown.

“Where’s the…” he mumbles, trailing off.

“The what?” Robin prompts.

Steve bites his bottom lip, hands finding his thighs and tugging at his jeans, frustrated. Seemingly unable to find the word, he brings a hand up to chest height and makes a little snapping motion with his fingers.

“…tongs?” Robin guesses, and Steve nods briskly. “Maybe we left them in the car? I’ll go have a look.”

“It’s fine, you can just use your fingers,” Eddie offers, because he truly couldn’t care less.

Steve shakes his head vehemently, face tightening even further.

“Or…I could grab it?” Eddie tries, but Steve shakes his head again, looking so distressed that Eddie shuts up.

There’s a meow from somewhere behind the table.

A black and white cat emerges from under it, a red collar around its neck, and approaches Steve confidently, pressing up against his legs.

Steve ignores the cat, at first.

He’s digging a thumbnail into the meat of his palm, shuffling from foot to foot every so often, dragging a lip so hard between his teeth that Eddie’s worried he’s gonna make it bleed, and Eddie isn’t sure what to do. He wants to help, wants to somehow soothe the boy, but he isn’t sure how, thinks if he gets any closer to him he’ll only make things worse.

The cats meows again. Presses itself harder up against Steve, stretches up so its little front paws are against his thigh, kneading insistently, refusing to be ignored.

Steve sags a little. Reaches down with a trembling hand, strokes it across the cat’s head, and Eddie can hear the rumbling purr start up from the little creature. He watches as Steve loosens up, as his fingers unclench and his teeth release his lip and the frown fades slowly from his lovely face.

Robin returns, snapping the tongs triumphantly, and hands them to Steve.

He takes them happily and returns to his task, placing Eddie’s chosen cookie into the bag with more care than Eddie’s ever seen from someone serving him food before.

Eddie takes the offered bag, the divine scent wafting out and making his mouth water. Wayne was going to regret not asking for one, he knows.

Steve looks up, catches his eye for the tiniest moment, then his gaze ducks away.

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “This smells great, seriously. And if you guys need anything,” he looks over to Robin to include her, too, “come see me at the fruit stall, I’m just over there.” He points in the direction of Wayne, who’s no doubt getting grumpier by the minute at Eddie’s absence.

Please come, Eddie begs silently, eyeing Steve one last time before he turns away.

“Three days,” Steve blurts out as Eddie starts to walk away.

Eddie pauses, turns back to him.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on his shoes again, and he rocks back and forth on his heels slightly. Robin glances between the two of them, then looks hopefully back at Steve.

Eddie frowns slightly, about to question him, when Steve speaks again.

“It took me three days. To bake everything. Wanted it all to be perfect.”

Eddie smiles, wide and warm.

“It is, Steve.”

___

[izaack-gauss]

𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧

< TW: ED >

Made by my friend @eightisviii, this was an art trade and I just really wanted to share this. I love this story so much. :)

𝐋. A Father's Concern

Izaack dreaded the day would come when he would meet his dad again. Ever since that fateful day when he signed a contract to Nuke News and got into the screens at last, it hasn't been great. Izaack felt like everyone's eyes were on him; and they were, both literally and figuratively.

Chub wasn't something the entertainment industry wanted and even a little love handle felt like it would lose him his image. So instead, he settled for eating less.

Days turned into weeks and into months until Thanksgiving. Alas, Izaack did promise he would visit his dad during holidays, plus the D.D.D. had recorded this as one of his routine. If he didn't go out there, his dad will surely go inside his apartment himself in full hazmat suit and all and drag him out.

He stood in front of the standing mirror, put on a casual blue tee shirt with a white collar and fitted himself into black skinny pants. Once done, he pulled his collar and jutted it out, flashing a toothy smile at himself. But he knew it wasn't enough.

He sighed and hoped his dad wouldn't notice if he only took a bite or two of a turkey leg for this one, maybe none at all. Argo would like meat more than me anyways, he thought and grabbed his keys before heading out.

His destination: Isaac's house.

-—-—-—-

"Son, you haven't touched the turkey at all." Isaac said, looking sternly at his son.

"Ah, this? It's only polite I wait for you to eat as well, dad." Izaack said, but even as Isaac began to chew on his drumstick, Izaack only stared at his drumstick and played around with his fork.

Isaac's brows furrowed despite his calm demeanor and he swallowed his food before he sighed. He wiped the sauce that got in the corner of his mouth and firmly placed his hands on both sides of his plate.

"Son."

Izaack was snapped out of his reverie and he looked up to see Isaac crossing his arms and looking down at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. He sighed; hoping his dad wouldn't notice was wishful thinking after all.

"Son, what's going on with you?" Isaac asked, concerned. "You loved turkey and you wouldn't pass your old man's cooking, would you?"

"Never in a million years, dad!" Izaack said, but then, his eyes drifted back towards the turkey leg on his plate and his mind reeled, reluctant.

"Actions say more than words, Izaack," Isaac shook his head. "Just what is going on with you? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know, it's just... It's a reporter's thing," Izaack mumbled.

"I didn't get that."

Izaack flinched, "Dad, you know I love my job..."

"And what does it have to do with a thanksgiving turkey?"

"A lot! The media is watching all the time, they're recording, they're laughing. Pointing and laughing. They'll call me fat, I'll lose my job, I'll—"

"Whoa there, son," Isaac's eyes widened and he reached for his son's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You won't get fat over a drumstick, besides, you're a great reporter. They're the ones who have more to lose than you."

Izaack breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down. "I-I guess you're right, dad... I just.." He sighed and averted his eyes. "I still can't..."

"I'll let you come to your own terms," Isaac smiled at him and patted his hand before pulling away. "Still, it worries me. As your dad, you know I care about you."

"I know, dad."

"And even if you get fired for such a silly reason, I'm always here. Me and that lanky businessman you sure love to bring home."

Izaack groaned at his dad waggling his brows. "Dad!" His face heated up, unable to believe him.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring him to Thanksgiving. Kinda douchy, don't ya' think?"

Izaack rolled his eyes. "We're meeting up later for the later festivities. And what about Joel, hmm?"

"Joel?! He's..." Isaac coughed out a choking sound. "Just a co-worker, nothing more."

"Sure..." Izaack smiled.

Isaac smiled back. "Well, if you aren't going to eat that, might as well give it to Argo. Poor boy's been on a dog food diet for days."

"Oh yes, feeding a dog food that is for a dog. What a nightmare." Izaack joked and laughed heartily. "...I love ya', dad."

Isaac chuckled, "Love ya' too, Iza."

[fizzyginfizz]

Hufflepup is one of my favorite fics ever. The dialogue is great and it’s so funny. There’s this one detail that breaks my heart in the best way. When Harry is describing Ginny being sorted into Gryffindor and shouting 7 out of 7 it’s probably exactly what she would’ve done if Riddle hadn’t already started influencing her. It’s such a good moment to show how different the hp would could’ve been without voldie messing things up. Id love a chapter 3 but what you’ve already written is perfect.

Yes! Thank you - because that is exactly what I hoped people would realize. That memory of Ginny's sorting is her most authentic self, as it should have been, completely horcrux-free.

But also Harry-free. Bear with me here: Ginny's canon trauma-year didn't start with Tom Riddle. It started with Harry. More specifically, her feelings for Harry. I refuse to call it a "silly crush" - it is real and it is devastating.

Before Harry arrived at the Burrow, Ron refers to Ginny as the girl who "never shuts up normally." We know she sneaks out, steals brooms, teaches herself to fly- she's audacious, brave, stubborn. She doesn't undergo some sort of metamorphosis her fifth year, becoming a funny, determined, gregarious, courageous person - this is who she always was.

But Harry comes to visit and she gives the outward appearance of shyness. But she's not shy - she's glitching out. Her inside-self gets stoppered. Her humor is bottled, her courage is stifled, her words are choked. Our poor girl has such big feelings-feelings-feelings her 11-year-old self overloads and she cannot function. Hers is the story of a girl who loses the outer-expression of her inner-self.

And that disconnect is the fertile ground where the diary roots. The diary is where she can be her authentic self again and let's just take another moment to despise Tom Riddle, okay?

I could go on and on about Ginny's crush and why I think fandom over-simplifies without truly mining its depth, but my point is really to validate your observation: yesyesyes, in Hufflepup Harry got all puppy-eyed at unfiltered, untrauma-ed, never-had-a-inner-outer-disconnect Ginny. And I'm so grateful you picked up on that, because it was a blast to write the comedy, but I did spend a lot of nerding-out time pondering what she'd be like. I've always thought if Harry had been able to see the real Ginny, he would've loved her much sooner.

I'm delighted the fic is one of your favorites, thank you so much, that means the world to me! I'm not sure when Ch. 3 is coming, but Ginny and Harry have started talking- his family keeps interrupting.